Keeping Secrets
by jlm110108
Summary: Charlie, Larry and Amita visit Charlie's alma mater, Princeton. This was written before I learned that Larry was also at Princeton, so I guess it's alternate universe now.This is also a Numb3rsHouse crossover, heavy on the Numb3rs. Final Chapter up!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters you'd recognize, and I am certainly not profiting from them, unless you consider the fun and joy of creating a semi-original story to be profiting. And the "Peacock Inn" is really an inn in Princeton. I've taken the liberty of keeping its real name and including some of the inn's features in my story. I've never been to Princeton, so I hope I do it justice.

This is a Numb3rs/House crossover, but heavy on Numb3rs.

"Keeping Secrets" Chapter 1

"Amita!" Charlie called, waving to be seen in the crowd at the arrivals gate.

Amita looked around, then seeing Charlie, she smiled and waved back. She glanced behind her, waiting for Larry to catch up. "Go," he said, laughing. "You two have been apart for six long days."

"Thanks," Amita said as she hurried past the security gates and into the waiting area. Charlie took her into his arms and gave her a hug.

"Welcome to Newark," he murmured into her hair. "I've missed you."

She pulled back and looked at him. "I've missed you too. You look tired." She touched his cheek. "And you're hot."

"No," Charlie said, nuzzling her neck. "You're hot."

"Seriously," she said, pulling back again, "are you all right?"

"I'm fine. It's just been a long, tiring week."

"How'd things go with the NSA? Or was it the military?"

"I can't tell you. But after four days working pretty much around the clock, I was able to finish up what they needed. So I'm just tired. A few days of seminars, sharing ideas with people who actually understand what I'm talking about, and I'll be back to normal."

Larry came up beside the two. "Or at least as normal as you – uh – normally are, Charles."

"Larry! Welcome to Newark! Do you guys have any checked baggage?"

"Oh, yes," Larry said, "I'm afraid the books I brought would never fit under my seat."

"Well, let's go," Charlie said, leading the way to baggage claim. Once they had collected their belongings, Charlie said, "I hope the car I rented is big enough for all this. You know, Larry, we're only going to be here for a week. I'll go get the car. You guys wait here with the stuff."

Charlie pulled up a few minutes later. As they loaded the car, Charlie said, "Have you had supper?"

"No, Charles, our biological clocks are still on Pacific time," Larry said, digging through his carry on.

"That's good. On the way to Princeton, we'll stop at the place Mom and I loved when we were here."

On the outskirts of Newark, Charlie found what he was looking for. "You are in for the treat of your lives," he said, pulling into the parking lot.

"White Castle?" Amita asked incredulously. "Your mother's favorite restaurant in New Jersey was White Castle?"

"Well," Charlie said, grinning, "she probably just humored me. You want to eat here or in the car?"

"How close are we to Princeton?" Amita asked.

"About another hour, depending on the traffic," Charlie said.

"Why don't we eat here, then," she said. "They have restrooms, right?"

"Of course," Charlie laughed. He pulled into a parking spot and led the way into White Castle. "It's been so long since I've had White Castle," he said, inhaling the perfume of onions, hamburgers and pickles. "My mouth is watering already."

Though Charlie already knew exactly what he wanted, he waited while Larry and Amita perused the menu. Finally, Larry said, "Charles, I do believe I'll have two chicken sandwiches and fries. The chicken sandwiches are as small as the hamburgers, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," Charlie said, holding his thumb and finger about two inches apart. "They're tiny."

Amita bit her lip and shook her head. "No salads? Nothing the least bit healthy... I'll have two jalapeno cheeseburgers and an order of cheese sticks."

"What?" Charlie asked, "no slyders? Well, let's do this," he led the way to the counter and placed their orders and added his own. "A sack of ten cheeseburgers. No fries." Noticing Larry and Amita staring at him, he said, "Hey, they reheat just fine. Besides, I am expecting the two of you to try at least one of the classics."

"Ah, Charles," Larry sighed, "what has become of this country if a hamburger can be considered a classic, on par with the writings of Tolstoy, the works of Mozart or the art of Leonardo DaVinci?"

Charlie nudged Larry, "Wait 'til you taste it before you bemoan the plight of our culture."

They ordered sodas, and found a table. Larry took the sandwiches and fries Charlie handed him, and stared at them. "Charles, I'm afraid I am feeling just a touch of trepidation over this."

Charlie was halfway through his first cheeseburger. He swallowed and said, "Just dive right in, Larry. I've never had the chicken, but if it's anything like their burgers, you'll love it."

Amita took a delicate bite of her jalapeno burger and said, "Mmm. This is good, Charlie. Even if it's not healthy." She washed it down with a sip of her diet soda. "No wonder your mom loved this place."

Charlie stared at Amita for a long moment. "You're not pulling my leg, are you?"

She shook her head as she took another bite. "Nope. This is good."

Larry had taken his first tentative bite. "Charles," he said when he had swallowed, "this is indeed very good."

"Now I know you guys are pulling my leg."

Larry looked confused. "Charles, why would we do that?"

"No reason," Charlie said as he started his second, or was it his third, burger. "Mmm. They're just as good as I remember."

Charlie had started to slow down by the time Larry and Amita had finished their meals. He pushed the bag to the center of the table. "Help yourselves."

Larry shook his head, "No thank you, Charles. I believe the chicken was quite enough for me."

Amita smiled and took one of the tiny burgers. "I have got to see if they're as good as you think they are." She took a bite. "Mmmm. Not bad. I liked the jalapeno cheeseburger better, though."

As they were picking up the remnants of their meals, Charlie looked into the sack. Of the ten tiny cheeseburgers, only four were left. Amita had had one, which meant Charlie had had five. He shrugged and took another one. He grinned at Amita. "That leaves three for a midnight snack."

"Charles!" Larry exclaimed. "Where are you finding the room for so many burgers?"

"Hmm?" Charlie swallowed. "I spent the past week working round the clock. I didn't have much time to eat, and I've been looking forward to this for months, ever since we decided to come to this conference."

Larry shrugged. "Well, then you deserve it. I still don't see how you found room for so much!"

Charlie put his arm around Amita's waist as they walked to the car. "Wait until you see the inn where I've booked our rooms. It's a colonial mansion, built in 1775. And the rooms are incredible. I got us three rooms, side by side."

"But Charlie, it must be expensive..."

"It's my treat. Both of you have been so helpful, so supportive. And the work you've done with me on Don's cases has just been amazing. It's the least I could do." He grinned and gave Amita a little squeeze as she climbed into the passenger's seat. "Well, that and the White Castle. Larry, the room I reserved for you is an antique lover's dream. And, Amita, your room has a four poster bed. And they all have fireplaces. Though in June, we shouldn't need them. All of the rooms are named after previous owners. Larry, your room is van Cleeves. Amita, you're in Swain, and I'm in Lindsay. They've just put in wi fi, a few months ago, so we'll be right at home."

"Ah, Charles," Larry said, "don't you find it somewhat strange to have wi fi in a 1775 mansion?"

"No more strange than having seatbelts in an antique car," Charlie laughed.

"I did not desecrate my car like that by choice," Larry moaned.

As they drove south and west, they finally left the back to back cities behind and reached the suburbs. Finally, they reached the quaint little city of Princeton. It seemed as if the university made up half of the town, and it was a beautiful university. Amita, who had never been to Princeton before, was intrigued. "I never expected anything in New Jersey to be this pretty."

"Aw, that's not fair," Charlie said, "I thought Newark was lovely."

"Oh, Charles," Larry said, "I do believe the presence of White Castles has clouded your judgment."

"It could be," Charlie said, laughing. He pointed ahead. "There's your home away from home for the week."

The Peacock Inn was every bit as beautiful as Charlie had said it was. It had turquoise clapboard siding, bright fuchsia shutters and bright white trim, a full porch across the front, and was almost hidden behind lush trees and shrubs.

"Oh, Charlie!" Amita exclaimed. "It is beautiful!"

He pulled into the parking lot. "Wait until you see the inside. I hope you like your rooms. If not, maybe we can switch, though they only have seventeen to chose from, and I tried to find..."

Amita laughed and pressed her fingertips to Charlie's lips. "Hush. I know the rooms will be perfect."

The pleasant little woman at the front desk looked up and greeted them with a smile. "Dr. Eppes! How nice to see you. And these must be your friends, Dr. Ramanujan and Dr. Fleinhardt." She stood and reached across the desk to shake hands. "I do hope you'll enjoy your stay with us."

"Oh, I know we will, Ms. Lindsay," Charlie said. They went through the formalities of checking in, and then Ms. Lindsay showed them to their rooms.

"Dr. Eppes, you know we've added wi fi since the last time you were here?" Ms. Lindsay said as she unlocked the first room.

"Yes, I'd heard. The perfect combination of eighteenth century elegance and twenty first century technology,"

"You have been reading our website," Ms. Lindsay laughed. "Well, here is Dr. Fleinhardt's room, the van Cleeves room. Dr. Eppes thought you'd enjoy the antiques. You're welcome to use the fireplace, but I do hope we've gotten past any need of it by now. It was a hard winter, but this week is supposed to be lovely." She handed Larry his key and led the way to the next room. "Dr. Ramanujan, your room is The Swain. The bed is antique, but the mattress, thank goodness, is modern. I do hope you won't need the down quilt, but it's here if you do. I am guessing you Californians are accustomed to warmer weather than we have. Do let me know if you need anything, dear."

"And, Dr. Eppes, I do hope you've gotten settled in comfortably. Do you need any help bringing your friends' luggage up?"

"No, thank you, Mrs. Lindsay. We can manage."

They did manage to carry Larry and Amita's belongings up to their rooms in a single trip. It was nearly nine o'clock – 6 o'clock to Larry and Amita. After they had settled in, they gathered in Charlie's room. "Would you like coffee or tea?" Charlie asked, "I could have Ms. Lindsay..."

"No, no, that will not be necessary, Charles. At least not for me," Larry said, looking at Amita. "But if you'd..."

"No, I'm good," Amita said.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" Charlie asked.

"I think I'd just like to relax," Amita said, "It's been a long day. And, Charlie, you look like you could use about twelve hours sleep. You're giving a seminar tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"And your old friend, Marshall Penfield, is scheduled right after you."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I wonder if he'll spend his time trying to debunk what I've presented. It would be just like him."

"Now, Charles," Larry said soothingly, "if he does decide to go that way again, I'm sure you'll be up to the task of debunking his debunking."

"I hope so," Charlie said with a yawn. "My mind is still a little scrambled with jet lag."

"But, Charlie, you've been here for a week. You should be over jet lag by now."

Charlie stammered, "Well, of course. I mean, I have been here long enough. So I guess I can't use that excuse any more. Let's see. How about lack of sleep. I did burn the midnight oil last week."

"Well, that settles it," Amita said, standing. "We'll make an early night of it and see the sights tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Amita stood outside of Charlie's door, knocking softly. She heard movement inside, and hoped Charlie wasn't wearing headphones, lost in some mathematical twilight zone. Finally, she heard footsteps approaching the door, and said, "Charlie, it's me. You ready to go to breakfast?"

The door opened, and Charlie appeared, bedraggled, pale, with dark circles under his eyes. "I think I'll skip breakfast," he said, smiling feebly. He pressed his hand to his midsection. "I'm not feeling very well this morning."

"Too many cheeseburgers last night?" Amita said, smiling sympathetically.

"Ohhhh, don't remind me," Charlie groaned.

Amita put her arm around Charlie and led him to the sofa. "Come on. Sit. You look like you're going to fall over." She brushed a curl away from his face. "And you feel warm, too."

Charlie slumped down onto the sofa. "How? It's freezing in here? Listen, why don't you and Larry go down to breakfast, and I'll take a shower and get ready for my presentation."

"Charlie, you don't look like you're ..."

"I'm actually feeling better than I was a while ago. I think I've gotten all the bad stuff out of my system." He grimaced as his stomach made a loud gurgling noise. "Maybe not. Gotta run," he stood and hurried to the bathroom.

Amita winced at Charlie's unintentional pun. "We'll check on you after breakfast," she called to his back. "You can always postpone..." she was interrupted by the slamming of the bathroom door.

Shaking her head, she closed Charlie's door behind her and headed to Larry's room. Unlike Charlie, Larry answered the door immediately. "Amita! How are you this wonderful morning?"

"I'm fine. Charlie, however doesn't look so great."

"Oh, dear. Do you think it was all those burgers he ate last night?"

"I think so. You should have seen his face when I asked if he had too many cheeseburgers last night. I've never seen him that shade of green," Amita said with a grin.

"Ah, Amita, you're a cruel woman. Should we contact the organizers and arrange to reschedule Charles' presentation?"

She shrugged. "I thought so, but he says he's feeling better. He's taking a shower and getting ready now. He didn't feel like having breakfast, though, so he said for us to go ahead without him."

They walked downstairs to the restaurant. A hostess greeted them by name and invited them to help themselves to the buffet. Larry looked confused as they crossed the room. "We haven't met that lady before. How did she know our names?"

"I don't know, Larry," Amita said, picking up a plate. "Perhaps Ms. Lindsay has the staff review the security tapes every night."

"Security tapes?" Larry glanced around. "But I don't see any cameras... Oh, Amita! You are in a rare mood this morning. You fooled me."

"Seriously, Larry, I have no idea. Maybe they're given descriptions of the guest so they don't have to stop them and ask for identification." She sighed. "I hope Charlie's okay."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Larry said. "In fact, I think I might have just the thing for him. Excuse me a moment," he said as he headed off in the direction of the hostess.

Amita had filled her plate with fruit and pastries and was pouring herself a cup of tea when he returned. "So?" She asked.

"Our hostess is going to find me some ginger ale and saltine crackers for poor Charles."

"Ginger ale and saltines?" Amita asked incredulously. "Why on earth...?"

"Ginger has been used by the Chinese for over two thousand years to treat indigestion. And saltine crackers are known to help expectant mothers with morning sickness."

Amita giggled. "I hope Charlie doesn't have morning sickness!"

"I'm reasonably certain he does not. However, he needs to have something solid in his stomach if he's going to face the world this morning."

Larry selected scrambled eggs, white bread and butter, and milk, and he and Amita sat down to eat. A few minutes later, the hostess approached, carrying a twenty ounce bottle of ginger ale, and a small box of saltine crackers. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

"Oh, no, thank you. This is wonderful. How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it, Dr. Fleinhardt. I just hope Dr. Eppes feels better. You will let us know if you need anything else, won't you? If he needs one, we can put him in touch with a local doctor. Um," she said, blushing slightly. "I hope you're not medical doctors..."

"Oh, no," Larry said. "We're PhDs. We're hopeless when confronted by a sick colleague."

"Well, enjoy your breakfast, and don't forget to let us know if we can help."

"Thank you," Amita said. "You're very kind."

"You're welcome, dear," the hostess said. She went back to the entrance to greet two gray suited men.

Amita nudged Larry. "Those two look like FBI agents, don't they?"

Larry glanced at the two men. "They could be professors. People on the east coast tend to dress more formally for some unknown reason."

The two men came toward them, nodded politely and continued on to the buffet.

"How's your breakfast?" Larry asked Amita.

"Excellent. How's yours? It looks like you're diversifying. The eggs are yellow."

Larry shrugged. "It was the closest thing to white I could find. They are excellent, by the way. I am so glad Charles found this place."

After they had finished eating, Larry picked up the ginger ale and crackers and they thanked the hostess again on the way out.

Charlie answered immediately when Larry knocked on the door. He had showered and shaved, and was toweling his hair. "Charlie!" Amita said, "You look so much better than you did earlier."

"I told you I was feeling better. Just don't mention cheeseburgers," Charlie said as he led the way into the room. He grinned when he saw the ginger ale and crackers. "Larry! Thank you! How did you know about Mom's miracle cure for all gastro-intestinal ailments? You didn't call my father, did you?"

"No. Actually, until I mentioned this to Amita, I thought everybody knew about the healing powers of ginger ale."

Charlie sat on the edge of his bed and opened the ginger ale. He took a small sip, swished it around in his mouth and swallowed it. After he took a second sip, he sighed and rubbed his stomach. "Much better. Listen, we'd better get over there. I'm almost ready." He caught Amita's amused glance at his robe. "Almost. Where should be meet?"

"How about the lobby?" Amita said, glancing at her watch. "Fifteen minutes?"

Charlie was only five minutes late. Amita gave him an admiring look as he came down the stairs. "Nice," she said. "New sport jacket?"

"Yes, it is. Do I look too yuppie?"

"Not at all. I like the khakis with the navy jacket. But, sneakers? Charlie!"

"We're going to be doing a lot of walking. I want to be comfortable."

"How are you feeling, Charles?" Larry asked, concern in his face.

"Not quite 100. More like 65. I may just come back here after my presentation is done," he said. "But you two stay as long as you want." He handed Amita a set of keys. "And if you feel like driving around, take the rental car. I'm sorry I'm such a lousy host."

Amita touched his cheek. "Don't worry about it. Hopefully this is just a twenty-four hour thing, and you'll be your old self tomorrow."

"I hope you're right. There is so much here I want to show you. Well, we should head out."

"How far do we have to go? Should we take the car?" Larry asked.

"It's easier to walk," Charlie said. "We're meeting in Fine Hall," he pulled out a campus map. "We're up here, just north of campus. Fine Hall is here," he pointed to a building on the opposite side of the campus.

"Charles, are you sure?"

Charlie patted Larry on the shoulder and opened the door. "I'm sure."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The walk to Fine Hall was long, but Charlie was anxious to show his friends the sights. "Larry, there is one thing you absolutely must see," he said. "It's on the way, so don't worry." He led them into a grassy courtyard and said, "May I direct your attention to the Mather Sundial." He pointed in the direction of a twenty foot tall column, set in the middle of an octagonal base of four steps, and topped by a statue of a pelican.

Amita laughed as Larry rushed to the massive column. Charlie put his arm around her waist and they walked at a more leisurely pace. "Charles," Larry said, "this is absolutely wonderful. It's a replica of the Turnbull Sundial in Oxford, is it not?"

"Yes it is. Sir William Mather, of Manchester, England gave it to Princeton University in 1907 as a symbol of the connection between Oxford University and Princeton." To Amita, he said, "The original was built in 1551, and is in the quad of Corpus Christi College in Oxford. I had the opportunity to see it the last time I visited Oxford. This is a very good copy, though."

Amita watched as the two sundial fanatics enjoyed themselves, grinning like little boys as they discussed the features of the twenty four different sundials arranged around the face of the column. She walked around the base, reading the inscription:

"Loyalty is e'er the same  
Whether it win or lose the game  
True as the dial to the sun  
Although it be not shined upon.''

As Larry continued to wander, looking and touching the sundials, she noticed Charlie easing himself down to sit on the steps. She sat beside him and said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just a little tired. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Oh, Charles," Larry called, "did you see this one?"

Charlie turned but didn't get up. "Yes, Larry, I've seen them all."

At his friend's tone, Larry tore his eyes from the sundial and looked at Charlie. "Charles? You're looking a touch peaked."

"I'm okay. Just tired. Enjoy the sundial."

"We should probably get going. We can come back here later. We'll be here all week," Larry said. He stood in front of Charlie and offered his hand to help him up.

"Thanks, Larry," Charlie said as he took Larry's hand and stood slowly. "We're a little over halfway to Fine."

Amita fought to suppress a grin. "That could be a description of you, Charlie. You look like you're halfway to fine."

He raised his eyebrows at her and gave her a wry look. "And you're way too clever for your own good."

She slipped her arm around his waist and leaned into him. "I'm just taking advantage of you in your weakened state."

"Very unsporting of you," Charlie murmured as he nuzzled her hair.

As they walked along Washington Road, Charlie continued pointing out the sights.

Larry shook his head in amazement. "This campus, Charles, is an amazing amalgamation of so many different architectural styles. They have a school of architecture, don't they? This very campus must be an incredible resource for those students." 

"I imagine it is," Charlie said. "There's Fine Hall over there. Home of the Applied and Computational Mathematics program, and host of our conference this week." He stretched and rubbed his stomach. "And I can only hope that Marshall Penfield is on sabbatical."

As they walked into Fine Hall, Amita nudged Charlie. "Looks like you're not going to get your wish."

Charlie closed his eyes and sighed dramatically. "I can only hope he doesn't notice us."

"Eppsie!" Marshall called from across the room.

"I'm batting 0 for 2," Charlie muttered, pasting a smile on his face. "Marshall! How wonderful to see you," he lied.

Marshall left the group he had been entertaining and hurried to greet the group from Cal Sci. "Larry! Amita! I'm so glad you made it. What do you think of our campus?"

"Oh, it is absolutely wonderful," Larry gushed. "We just came from the Mather Sundial."

Charlie leaned over and whispered in Amita's ear. "Be right back. I've got to go to the little boys' room. Hold this for me?" He handed her his computer bag.

She nodded. "Okay. We'll wait here for you."

"Excuse me," Charlie said to the group. "I'll be back in a minute."

They watched Charlie leave, and Marshall said, "Is he all right?"

Amita bit her lip and nodded. "I think last night's supper is giving him a hard time."

Marshall grimaced in sympathy. "What did he eat?"

"Six White Castle cheeseburgers," Larry said.

"Ouch," Marshall said. "Well, I am looking forward to his presentation. I do hope he feels better. In spite of what he thinks, I do admire him as a mathematician, and seeing him working so passionately on that case for the FBI gave me a whole new appreciation for his genius."

"I'll let him know you said that," Amita said.

"Please don't. I have too much fun just bugging the hell out of him." He took a step closer to Amita. "Speaking of which, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

Amita laughed and stepped back. "I think I'll be spending the whole week with Charlie and Larry. Two men in my life are quite enough right now."

"I understand. Say, do you think you'd at least be able to make it to my presentation? I'm speaking on Zermolo's Axiom of Choice."

Larry said, "We wouldn't dream of missing it."

"Thanks. I promise it will be a unique take on the subject. Listen, since my department is hosting this little shindig, I'd better go do something productive. It was great seeing you again. And, seriously, tell Charlie I hope he feels better."

"I will. It was great seeing you again, Marshall," Amita said.

A few minutes later, Charlie returned, carrying a can of ginger ale. "Amazingly, I found this in the hospitality lounge. They must be planning on hosting a few hung-over mathematicians." He took his briefcase from Amita. "Sorry I had to run. Where's Marshall?"

"Off finding something productive to do," Larry said. "He did say he hopes you feel better."

"That was nice of him," Charlie said. "He probably feels bad kicking me when I'm down."

"Come on," Amita took Charlie's arm. "Let's go sit down." They walked into the auditorium, and found seats near the front. Charlie took out his computer and called up his presentation. Amita looked over his shoulder. "Oh, Charlie. You're going high tech today? No white board?"

Charlie chuckled. "Have you ever known me not to use a white board? Never fear. Today's presentation is mixed media." He took a sip of his ginger ale and stared at the screen until Amita nudged him. "Hmm? What?"

"Larry and I are going to wander around for a bit. Maybe find that hospitality lounge you mentioned. Is that okay with you? We'll be back in time for your presentation."

"Well," Charlie said, smiling, "I hope so."

"Do you need anything?"

"A new digestive tract would be nice. But other than that, I'm set." He took another sip of ginger ale and went back to reviewing his presentation.

Author's Note: When I was doing research on Princeton, I found out about the Mather Sundial. Since our boys, Larry & Charlie are both members of the North American Sundial Society, I couldn't resist. Here's a link that shows the Mather Sundial: http://tigernet. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Amita and Larry returned just as the session was beginning. Charlie was slumped in his seat and appeared to be dozing, but he looked up as Amita sat next to him. "Hey," he said hoarsely. He paused to take a sip of ginger ale. "Looks like you found the hospitality lounge."

"Yes, and I brought you another ginger ale," Amita said, handing him the cold can. "You're not looking so great, Charlie."

"Thanks," Charlie said, smiling as he pressed the can to his face. "Good thing I'm first this morning."

After an introduction that seemed to go on forever, one of Marshall Penfield's colleagues, whose name Amita couldn't remember, finally introduced Charlie. He rose, and with his computer in one hand and the ginger ale in the other, he took the stage.

"Convergence improvement actually refers to acceleration, whereby you reach reach a degree of accuracy within a series with fewer terms," Charlie began. "Any number of series can be applied to this method. For example, take a Taylor series. You expand the Taylor series about infinity and interchange the summation. One of the limitations of this method is that the sum must be known in this application." Charlie wrote the illustration of the Taylor series in the convergence on the whiteboard. His script, usually done at breakneck speed, was to Larry and Amita alarmingly slow and even sloppier than usual. Amita almost cried out when she found a glaring error, but Penfield had beaten her to it.

"That's k over k minus one, Eppsie," Penfield said, with shockingly little rancor in his tone. Usually Marshall loved jumping all over Charlie; this time, his tone was almost subdued.

"I'm concerned," Larry whispered to Amita. "Charles doesn't make these errors."

"And Penfield isn't usually nice about it," Amita shot back. She observed the young professor carefully, noticing how pale and exhausted he looked. The room was cool, but he looked to be sweating bullets.

Charlie droned on, his voice drained of its usual enthusiasm. "Now, the Taylor series can be further accelerated by the application of the Euler transform. This is a technique I use when attempting to put together information on, say, a serial killer. I don't know who the killer is, but I know who the victims are. There's a mountain of information you acquire in putting together a victim profile; you weight those factors and then you apply them by employing the Euler transform..." Suddenly, he stopped writing and talking, and grimaced. "I'm sorry, I seem to have developed a touch of indigestion. Remind me not to eat at ..." He dropped his marker and grabbed his belly, groaning loudly. He doubled over, dropped to his knees and then slumped to the floor.

Amita sat, staring for a moment, then ran to the stage. "Charlie!" she screamed, kneeling beside him and touching his face gently.

He moaned and turned his head toward her touch. "Amita..." he whispered, then tensed and gasped. "Oh, God, Amita, it hurts."

She became aware of other people surrounding her. She glanced up and was stunned to see the two men from breakfast. One man was talking on his cell phone. "Yes, we'll have the ambulance bring him there, Dr. Cuddy. Are you sure Dr. House... Yes, thank you." He put the phone back in his pocket, and pulled out a badge, which he showed to Amita. "Mike O'Connell, NSA, Dr. Ramanujan. We're taking Dr. Eppes to the Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. I've already made arrangements."

"NSA?" Amita's voice raised in anger. "Why are you following Charlie? What is going on here?"

"Dr. Ramanujan, you have to understand that Dr. Eppes is a valuable asset..."

"Asset!? Asset!? Agent O'Connell, you have to understand that Charlie is a human being with friends and family who love him very much. What have you done to him?"

"Nothing," O'Connell said coldly. "But we have to protect.."

"...your assets?" Amita said sarcastically.

"...the information that Dr. Eppes has. He has just finished a high level consulting job. We, uh, I'm afraid I really can't tell you any more, but, trust me, we needed to be here." He turned to Charlie. "Dr. Eppes?"

Charlie opened his eyes and looked at the agent. "What?"

"I'm Agent O'Connell from the NSA. My partner, Frank Reid, and I will be staying with you. I'm sure you're aware..."

"Yes, I know the terms of my contract," Charlie said weakly. "And I know what I can divulge..." he grimaced, "and what I can't."

O'Connell put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Director Tompkins just wanted to be sure."

Charlie pushed O'Connell's hand away. "You can tell Bob Tompkins that I have never violated the terms..." he gasped in pain. "...of any of my agreements with any agency. And," he paused, biting his lip, "And I will not violate this one."

O'Connell nodded and stood.

Amita scowled at O'Connell, then touched Charlie's cheek. "It's okay, Charlie. He's gone."

"Amita," Charlie fumbled for something in his pocket and handed her his cell phone. "Call Dad. Speed dial 1."

She looked at the cell phone uncomprehendingly for a moment, then opened it and dialed. The phone on the opposite side of the country rang and rang. Finally, the answering machine picked up. Amita considered hanging up. What kind of a message was she going to leave? But she took a deep breath and said, "Mr. Eppes, this is Amita. Charlie's sick. Something with his stomach. The ambulance is on its way to take him to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. That's Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. I'm keeping his phone with me, and I'll call you as soon as I know anything more. I'm calling Don now." She hung up and touched Charlie's head. "Charlie? I left a message. What's Don's number?"

"Speed dial 2," Charlie murmured.

She dialed Don's cell phone.

On the other side of the country, Don Eppes was awakened by his cell phone. He forced his eyes open, fumbled for the phone and stared at the dsiplay. He considered letting it go to voice mail, but then he flipped the phone opened and growled, "Charlie! Don't you realize you're in a different time zone?"

"Don?" he heard Amita's quavering voice. "It's Amita. Charlie's sick and I ..." her voice broke.

"Amita," he said gently. "Take a deep breath and tell me the whole thing from the beginning."

He heard a sniff and a sigh. "First I want to tell you the ambulance is on the way. They'll be taking him to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. I left a message for your dad already. Now, from the beginning. I went to get Charlie for breakfast, and he looked and felt like... well, not very good. We just assumed it was because of all the White Castle burgers he'd wolfed down last night. But then while he was doing his presentation this morning, he collapsed. He's ... he's in so much pain, Don." She paused, and Don could hear her sniffing. "But, Don, there are two NSA agents here. They've taken over, and I don't know what to do."

In the background, he heard a man's voice, "Dr. Ramanujan. Who are you talking to?"

Amita said, "This is Special Agent Don Eppes. Charlie's brother."

"Let me speak to him," the man said. Don heard Amita's protest, and then rustling as the phone changed hands. "Agent Eppes?"

"Yes?" Don said warily.

"I'm Agent Mike O'Connell, with the NSA. I don't know if you're aware, but Charlie does some consulting for us..."

"I'm aware. He was working for you last week, right?"

"How did you know? He was told..."

"I put two and two together, O'Connell. My brother is in DC for a week, then he passes out in Princeton and the first people on the scene are NSA agents. It doesn't take a rocket scientist."

"All right," O'Connell said. "Listen, Agent Eppes, we're concerned about Charlie, not just as an asset, but as a person. He'll get the best care available. The hospital we're taking him to has the best diagnostics department in the country, if not the world. He'll be in good hands. And you are welcome to come out here and be with him. But because of the information he has, I have to tell you that one of us will be with him every step of the way, too."

"Then you'd better learn to be a little more polite to Amita. She and Charlie are very close. Knowing her, she will be with all of you every step of the way."

O'Connell snorted. Don could hear the smile in his voice when he continued. "I'll take your advice, Agent Eppes."

"Okay, now can I speak with Charlie?"

O'Connell hesitated. "He's in a lot of pain... But I'll see if he can talk." Don heard O'Connell say something to Charlie and heard Charlie's voice.

More rustling on the phone line, and then Charlie spoke, "Don?"

"Charlie, Buddy! What's going on?"

"I don't know," Charlie said weakly. "It hurts, Don. I don't know what's wrong..."

"Okay, Buddy. I'm going to try to get there today. You hang in there, okay?"

Charlie gasped, then said, "I'm trying, Don."

"Okay. I just wanted to hear your voice. Give me back to Agent O'Connell."

More rustling, and O'Connell came back on the line. "Yes?"

"Agent O'Connell..."

"Call me Mike."

"Okay, Mike, I'm going to try to get there today. I've got to call our father and let him know what's going on."

"Okay, Agent Eppes..."

"Don."

"Okay, Don. I'm looking forward to meeting you. I just wish it could have been under better circumstances. Those who have worked with Charlie speak very highly of him."

Don got the address of the hospital, along with Mike O'Connell's phone numbers, then hung up to call his dad. As he expected, Alan was in a panic. "Donnie! I've been trying to call Charlie's phone. Did Amita get ahold of you?"

"Yes, Dad. I was on the phone with her. I spoke with Charlie too. He's really hurting. They have no idea what's wrong, and an ambulance is on the way. They're taking him to the best diagnostic team in the country. Amita will be with him. And I'm planning on getting out there today if I can."

"Make two reservations. I'm coming with you."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Dr. Gregory House sat in the clinic examination room, playing Gameboy while ignoring the complaints of an elderly woman with too much time on her hands. There was a knock on the door, and Dr. Lisa Cuddy entered the room. House gazed up appreciatively at Cuddy's cleavage and said, "Good morning, Dr. Cuddy. To what do we owe the ..."

"Oh, be quiet, House. I'll take over here. You have a patient."

"No, I don't. I haven't selected a patient in three days. Nothing but boring cases."

"Well, you have one now." She held up a folder. "A Dr. Charles Eppes, a math genius who was participating in a seminar over at Fine Hall. He collapsed on stage with acute abdomen..."

"Most math geeks would kill for a cute abdomen," House offered.

"He's also has bloody diarrhea and is vomiting."

"Gross, but still boring. Next you'll be telling me he's dehydrated. Big news. Have you considered any of the bacterial causes, shegellosis, salmonellosis..."

"The NSA specifically requested you."

"NSA? Never Smile Again? Not Specially Adorable?"

"The National Security Agency."

"Oh, Never Seen Again! National Society of Asswipes?"

"Shut up, House."

"You're repeating yourself, Dr. Cuddy."

"And you are taking this case. I'll cover your clinic hours."

"Just today?"

"And tomorrow."

"If this case isn't the thirty minute slam dunk I think it will be, then it's worth at least a week of clinic hours."

"A week?

"What, would you prefer two weeks?"

"Two weeks, then." She handed him the folder. "He's in the ER now. Go see your patient, House."

House held the Gameboy and folder in his left hand, picked up his cane with his right hand and pulled himself painfully to his feet. "No, Dr. Cuddy, that is why I have minions. My minions will see our new patient. I get paid to think deep thoughts. I'll bet you another week of clinic hours he's got a common bacterial infection."

"You're on," Cuddy said, "Now get out of here."

By noon, Don had contacted Assistant Director Merrick, and arranged for Megan Reeves to head up his team while he was gone. He and Alan were on their way to LAX, with a couple of hastily packed suitcases in the back of Don's SUV. Their plane was due to leave at 2:15, and arrive in Newark a little after 10:30 at night Don had called Amita to fill her in on their plans and see how Charlie was doing.

"Oh, Don, I don't know. They're running some tests, and they haven't let us see him yet. Of course the NSA agents are with him, but I don't trust them. I've got the keys to Charlie's rental car, so I'll pick you up at the airport."

"You don't have to do that. We've got a rental car waiting there for us. Amita?"

"Yes?"

"Are you okay? This has to be really hard on you."

Amita sighed. "It is. I'm really glad you and your dad are coming out. I don't know if I could handle this ... Hey, Don. You didn't make hotel reservations, did you?"

"No. Why?"

"Charlie's room at the inn has a sleeper sofa besides the bed. You two can stay there. The inn is just across the street from campus. It's a beautiful place. Charlie picked it ... " she stopped, and Don could hear her struggling to regain control. "I'm sorry," she finally said.

"Amita, it'll be okay. It sounds like he's at the best hospital. Dad and I will be in Princeton around midnight. I'll call you when we're closer. You and Larry take care, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Don."

After Don hang up, Alan said, "Well?"

"She doesn't know anything more yet. They're doing tests. It'll be okay, Dad. This doctor is supposed to be the best in the country."

Alan shook his head. "I hope you're right, Donnie. I just don't know."

Dr. House stood in his office, dry marker in his hand, poised over the whiteboard. On the top of the board, he had written, "NSA acute abdomen." He turned to the three young doctors in the room, and said, "All right. We have David Eppes,"

Dr. Allison Cameron, a pretty brunette, looked up from the file, "Charles Eppes."

House looked annoyed. "Whatever. He presented with acute abdomen, bloody diarrhea, and bloody vomit. Differential diagnosis?"

Dr. Robert Chase, a blond Australian said, "Bacterial. Shigellosis, salmonellosis, colitis, amebiasis..."

"Congratulations." House wrote 'bacteria' on the white board. "You get to do a whole passel of stool cultures. Next?"

Dr. Eric Foreman, a black man with a bored expression on his face said, "IBD?"

"Sorry we don't have anything neurological for you, Foreman. But you were required to take some general classes, weren't you? Get with the program."

"I said IBD," Foreman said, scowling.

"Oh, sorry. I thought you said 'I be dee.' I thought it was some ghetto expression I was unfamiliar with." He wrote 'inflammatory bowel disease'. And you are the big winner here. You and Cameron get to do a colonoscopy. Any other possibilities?"

"Toxins?" Foreman suggested.

House wrote 'toxins?' and said, "Chase, while you're playing in the poop, look for toxins, too. Anything else?"

The three were silent for a moment. "Oh, come on, people. You have each paid a small fortune for your medical educations, and this is all you can come up with? What about parasites? What about anthrax?"

"Anthrax?" Chase said, reaching for the file. "Has he been out of the country recently?"

Cameron shook her head, flipping through the files. "He says no. Last trip out of the country was the UK two years ago."

"Cameron," House said patiently, "how many times have I told you: people lie. Talk to him again."

"Why?" Foreman said, "So he can lie to us again?"

"No," House said waving his hand dramatically, "so you can intimidate him into confessing. Is he receiving blood?"

"Yes," Chase said.

"Well, when he's filled up, take some back."

"For?" Cameron asked.

"For more tests. But make sure he hasn't been started on antibiotics first. They'll screw up the results of some of the test. As I'm sure you know. And after you get the blood, start him on a nice cocktail of ciprofloxacin, and your choice of one or two from column B – ampicillin, clindamycin, whatever. Your choice."

"Why?" Chase asked.

"Because in spite of Edward Eppes'..."

"Charles," the three young doctors said in unison.

"Ooh, very nice. Did you rehearse all morning? In spite of CHARLES Eppes' contention that he has not been out of the country, I am going to assume he ate some anthrax somewhere along the way. Shhhh!" He held up a hand. "I will save you the trouble of asking me why. If we wait for the tests and it turns out to be anthrax, he'll be dead. If we treat him for anthrax and it turns out to be something else, no harm." He put both hands on the head of his cane and started at his three students. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get going. Scat!"

They had finally moved Charlie into a fishbowl of a room, and allowed Amita and Larry to join him. As they entered the room, Agent O'Connell glanced up from the book he was reading. "Hi," he said. He glanced at Charlie. "He's been sleeping for a while. They finally gave him something for the pain."

"That's good," Amita said as she pulled a chair over to Charlie's bedside. She blinked back tears as she looked at his pale, still face. She touched his cheek. Hot and dry. Fever. She looked up at the IV bags and the tubes running into his arm. "Blood? They're giving him a transfusion?"

"Internal bleeding," O'Connell said. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Listen, Dr. Ramanujan, Dr. Fleinhardt, we don't have to be on opposite sides in this."

Amita said, "There were no 'sides' until you showed up and took over."

"I realize that. But can we start over? We all want the same thing now. We want Dr. Eppes to recover."

"I don't believe that is exactly the case," Larry said.

"What? What are you talking about?" O'Connell asked.

Amita decided to try explaining. "Well, we want Charlie to be okay because we love him. You want to protect your secrets, and not lose a good consultant. So while we seem to want the same thing, we want it for totally different reasons. In fact, I am willing to guess that if you believe Charlie is about to reveal something secret you would do whatever it took to stop him." She turned back to Charlie and brushed a curl back from his forehead.

O'Connell opened his mouth to answer then just shook his head and went back to reading his book.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Larry pulled a chair over and sat next to Amita, looking sadly at his sleeping friend. It was not lost on him that he and Amita had formed a wall between Charlie and the watchful NSA agent. He glanced at Amita and touched her hand. "He's getting the best possible medical care. He'll be fine."

"That's not a very scientific conclusion, Larry," Amita said, smiling sadly at him.

"I wasn't speaking as a scientist. I was speaking as a friend." He squeezed her hand and released it.

A tear rolled down Amita's cheek and she angrily wiped it away. "I kept teasing him about those damned burgers. He was so sick, bleeding inside, and I was making fun of him."

"None of us knew how sick he was. He was even making light of the situation, so he couldn't have felt that poorly."

Charlie opened his eyes and took a moment to focus. "Hey, Larry, Amita," he murmured.

"Charlie!" Amita smiled as she touched Charlie's cheek. "How are you feeling?"

He closed his eyes and leaned into her cool hand. "Tired. But it doesn't hurt as much. That's a good thing."

"Good," Larry said. "You gave us quite a fright, Charles."

"And I didn't even finish my presentation. Were my fans disappointed?"

"Devastated," Amita said. "Marshall Penfield was especially upset."

Charlie waved a hand dismissively. "Probably just waiting to catch me in another mistake."

Amita laughed. "That does seem to be his favorite hobby."

Charlie chuckled and grimaced.

"Do you want me to call the nurse?" Amita asked.

"No. It's okay. Just don't make me laugh." He looked up at the IV bags hanging above him. "Blood?" He asked.

"Yeah, Agent O'Connell says you were bleeding internally. He's the only one they allowed to stay with you," Amita said, scowling at the agent.

Charlie followed Amita's gaze. "He just wanted to make sure I didn't give away any state secrets."

O'Connell looked up from his book. "Charlie..."

"It's okay, Mike. I understand. I'm not thrilled, but I understand."

The door opened, and a woman and two men entered the room. Charlie smiled, "Amita, Larry, meet Dr. Cameron, Dr. Chase and Dr. Foreman. They're part of the diagnostics team."

Dr. Cameron smiled at Charlie. "You look like you're feeling a little better." She opened the folder she carried and pulled out a pen. "I need to confirm some of the information you gave us earlier."

"Sure," Charlie said. "What do you need?" He glanced apprehensively at a tray of equipment that Chase had brought in. The blond Australian was putting on rubber gloves.

"Well, it's about your travel in the last six months," Cameron said, "You stated that you haven't been outside the country. Is that right?"

O'Connell put his book down and leaned forward as Charlie answered. "That's right. Why?"

"Dr. House just wanted to eliminate some possibilities. Some diseases that have the symptoms you're exhibiting are just not seen in the US."

Chase looked up and snorted. "House thinks you're lying."

Charlie glanced at the NSA agent, then turned back to Chase. "I am not lying. The last time I was out of the country was when I went to England in 2004."

Chase shrugged. "House believes that everybody lies. Have you been taking any antibiotics?"

"No. I suppose House would think I'm lying about that too."

Chase grinned. "Probably. But we'll take our chances. I'm going to have to collect some stool samples."

Charlie grimaced. "That sounds like fun. What for?"

"We need to eliminate various bacteria and parasites as causes. And when I finish with you, Foreman and Cameron are going to do a colonoscopy. Here, let me help you roll over onto your side." Chase looked up at Amita and Larry. "You might want to give us a bit of privacy."

Larry blushed and stood. "I think that would be an excellent idea. Amita, why don't we go get some coffee?"

They found their way to the cafeteria, and Larry treated Amita to coffee and a sandwich. They were both amazed that it was almost dinner time. They'd been so caught up in the whirwind of activity in the bowels of the hospital, they had lost track of time. Once they had settled down at a table near the window, Larry said, "Amita, do you have any idea what Charles was doing last week?"

"No. He said he was consulting in DC."

"The doctors don't seem to believe he stayed in the country." Larry said as he lifted his sandwich to take a bite.

"I know, and I don't understand it. Why would Charlie lie about something like that?"

"Perhaps the presence of NSA agents is causing his reticence. I think it's reasonable to conclude that he worked for the NSA last week, and they are afraid that he will say something that might jeopardize something they're working on."

Amita smiled. "Yeah, Larry, I'd say that was a pretty reasonable conclusion. I wonder where he really was."

"Perhaps we can get him to give us some clues. The doctors seem to believe that it's important to their diagnosis to know where Charles was last week."

They finished their lunches and took their drinks with them back to Charlie's room.

By the time they returned, Chase was gone, presumably taking his stool samples with him. Charlie had fallen back asleep, and Cameron and Foreman were setting up their equipment. Amita's eyes widened and she grimaced as she said, "You haven't done the colonoscopy yet?"

Cameron said, "We're waiting for the sedative to take effect."

Amita smiled fondly at the sleeping Charlie. "Looks like it's taken effect already."

Charlie stirred and opened his eyes. "Oh, hey, hi, guys," he croaked and tried to clear his throat. "Could I get a drink?"

Amita looked at the doctors, who nodded. She poured a glass of ice water from the pitcher on the nightstand and held the straw to Charlie's lips. He drank until Cameron looked up. "You'd better slow down, Charlie."

"Sorry," he said, "I'm just really thirsty." His eyes widened as he saw the machine. "What's that for?"

"Just another test," Cameron said. "Colonoscopy. Don't worry. You won't feel a thing."

"Easy for you to say," Charlie muttered.

Cameron glanced at Larry and Amita, "If it's okay with Charlie, you're welcome to stay."

Larry, looking shocked, stammered, "I ... uh ... I don't believe that will be necessary."

Amita touched Larry's arm. "Why don't you take Charlie's phone and go sit in the waiting room? Don said he'd call..."

"Don?" Charlie's eyes opened. "Don's coming?"

"Your dad, too. Don said they'd be here around midnight."

"What time's it now?" Charlie asked.

"A little after six. I just figured I'd give Larry a good excuse to get out of here."

"Excuse taken," Larry said, heading for the waiting room.

Cameron approached the bed. "Okay, Charlie, I've given you a mild sedative. It'll relax you for the procedure." She injected something into a port on Charlie's IV. "The procedure shouldn't be painful, but I'm upping your pain meds a bit just in case."

"Thanks," Charlie murmured. His eyes were drifting shut.

Amita touched his cheek. "Charlie, is it okay with you if I stay?"

"Mmmhmmm," he nodded.

Amita heard movement behind her. She'd forgotten that Agent O'Connell was there. She turned around, and found the agent leaning forward, looking at her and listening intently. ""He's not telling me anything, Agent," she said.

O'Connell sighed and went back to reading.

Amita held Charlie's hand as Cameron and Foreman began the colonoscopy. Charlie grimaced, but didn't wake up. She couldn't resist peeking at what they were doing, and she winced at the length of the tube they were inserting.

Foreman met her gaze and smiled. "Don't worry, we don't use all of it."

"What are you testing for?" Amita asked.

"Well," Cameron said, "We're looking for whatever is causing the pain and bleeding. This is actually a camera that lets us see inside his large intestine."

"What do you think is wrong with him?"

"We really need to get the results of this and the other tests before we jump to any conclusions. It could be a bacterial infection, diverticulitis, food poisoning. There are a lot of possible causes."

"Cameron!" A grizzled looking man with a cane called from the doorway. "Are you going to stop chatting and start the show?"

"Dr. House," Cameron said, sighing. "You're just in time."

"Good. I love the butt cam. Nothing quite like a visual tour of the inner workings of the colon, don't you think?" He smiled as he addressed Amita. "I trust Mr. Edwards here is a friend of yours."

"Eppes," Amita said, "His name is Charles Eppes. And yes, Larry and I are his friends. His father and brother will be here later."

"Oh, great. Friends AND family. Foreman, remind me to stay clear of this room when the family arrives." Turning to Amita, he added. "The only thing I hate more than meeting patients is meeting their friends and families." He pulled a chair over and sat in front of the monitor. "Okay, let's get this show on the road!"

Amita noticed Dr. House grimaced as he sat, and absentmindedly rubbed his right thigh. He scowled as he caught her looking at him, and she quickly looked away. She heard the rattle of a pill bottle and glanced back in time to see House pouring several pills from an orange prescription bottle into his hand and popping them into his mouth. "Vicodin," House growled, "the breakfast of champions."

Amita closed her eyes and prayed a silent prayer. Her beloved Charlie was in the hands of a pill popping misanthrope, and she couldn't see any way to get him out of this hospital. She found herself wishing once again that Don and Alan were there.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Don counted himself lucky that he had found two seats together. He wasn't thrilled that they were in the very last row in coach, but at least they would get to see Charlie tonight. Knowing that he would have a hard time sitting still for the five and a half hours they'd be in the air, he had insisted that his dad take the window seat. Alan had had the forethought to pack a carry on with books, a walkman, and some snacks that would pass the TSA screening. Don had stuffed a few unfinished reports, a Jack Higgins novel and his Ipod into his briefcase. He didn't think he'd be doing a lot of reading, but he was even less likely to be able to sleep.

Alan fastened his seatbelt and took a sudoku book and a pencil from his bag. "Donnie," he said softly.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"I just wanted to thank you for getting us on this flight. I know you're busy at work..."

"There's a whole office full of people who can handle that stuff. You and I are the only ones Charlie's got." He thought back to how Charlie had sounded, and wished that there was some way to get there even faster.

Alan seemed to read his thoughts. "I can't believe you found us seats on a non-stop flight with such short notice."

Don smiled, "Yeah, I expected to have to resort to extreme measures to get us out there today."

"Extreme measures?"

Don shrugged. "Well, I am an employee of the federal government."

"So you could pull rank?"

"Not that there's much rank to pull, but, yeah, I could have told a little white lie..."

"You didn't, did you?"

"No. Luckily they had these seats available." Don took his Ipod out of the briefcase and slipped it into his pocket and took out a folder before sliding the briefcase under the seat in front of him.

"You're not going to do work, are you?"

"Probably not. But it gives me something to stare at for five hours."

"He's in good hands, Son."

"I know. This Dr. House is apparently the best."

Meanwhile, 2500 miles away, Dr. House was leaning forward, both hands on the head of his cane, staring at the monitor. "Stop. There. Get me a sample of that lesion."

"What is it?" Foreman asked, maneuvering the probe.

"If I knew what it was, I wouldn't need you to sample it. Okay, keep going."

Charlie stirred in his sleep and moaned. Amita touched his cheek and murmured, "Shhh. It's okay."

"There," House said. "Get that one too. I want several of them so we can see what we've got." He looked up at Cameron. "Did you start him on antibiotics yet?"

"Not yet," Cameron said, "We've been running the tests..."

"Foreman and I will finish this up. You get the antibiotics and get them in him."

"Now?"

"Now! How do real doctors say it? Stat?"

Something in House's tone alarmed Amita. She looked up at him, trying to read his expression. Finally she said, "Dr. House?"

"What?" He said, not taking his eyes from the monitor. "The antibiotics? There are some nasty bugs that could be taking up residence inside your boyfriend, but I'm afraid that while we're waiting for all the test results, those bugs could kill him. So, we're going to start treating him before the bugs do their dirty work."

"Oh," Amita said.

Charlie tensed and groaned. His eyes opened and he said, "Amita?"

House said, "Foreman. Stop right there." He eased himself painfully to his feet and walked around to stand behind Amita, and looked at Charlie's face. "Foreman, did Cameron up his pain meds?"

"Yeah. I watched her do it," Foreman said. "Why?"

"He shouldn't be feeling a thing right now." He hobbled back to his seat. "Let's finish this up. Any mention of drug use in his file?"

"No," Foreman said, "and the blood work was clean too. So I'm not just taking his word for it."

"You're catching on," House said, "People lie. Wait." He poked a finger at the monitor. "What's that?"

Foreman made a few adjustments and the picture zoomed in. "Can't tell. Want a piece of it?"

"Yes. Then get out of there. We've seen enough." He stood and limped from the room without another word.

Foreman sighed and removed the scope. He covered Charlie back up and met Amita's gaze and smiled. "House takes some getting used to. But he really knows his stuff." He peeled off his gloves and took a quick look at the monitors and IV bags. Then he wheeled the colonoscopy equipment from the room.

Charlie shivered and moaned again. Amita brushed the curls back from his cheek. He was burning up. She looked up as Larry entered the room.

"How's he doing?" Larry asked.

Amita shook her head. "He's still out from the sedative they gave him. But he feels really hot. They're going to start him on antibiotics."

"Have they discovered the cause yet?"

"No. But Dr. House believes that if they wait for the tests, Charlie could die."

"Oh, my." Larry dropped into his chair. "Poor Charles."

A few minutes later, Dr. Cameron returned. She saw Larry and Amita's expressions and bit her lip. "Don't worry. Dr. House..."

"Everybody keeps telling me he's the best, "Amita said, "but so far all I've seen is a pill popping creep who seems to hate everybody. I thought doctors were supposed to care about people." She stopped, tears running down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Dr. Cameron, I'm just really upset."

"I understand," Cameron said., injecting the contents of two syringes into the port in Charlie's IV. "Listen, Dr. House is not easy to get along with or understand, but he's got an incredible mind. I understand Charlie here is a math genius. There are probably times people find him hard to understand. I'm guessing there are even times he's not that easy to get along with."

Amita laughed as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "Yeah, you could say that."

"I'm sure you've noticed that House is in constant pain, too. I'm not excusing him. His behavior is reprehensible. But in spite of his failings, and they are many, he will grab hold of a problem and he will not let go until he's solved it. Charlie is in the best possible hands. And once these antibiotics start working, he should be feeling a lot better."

"He feels so hot," Amita said softly.

"Well, let's check," Cameron said, pulling an ear thermometer from her pocket and checked Charlie's temperature. "Hmm. It is a little higher. We'll see what we can do to lower it."

"Dr. Cameron," Larry said, "may I ask which disease you're treating Charles for?"

Cameron looked at the door, then, apparently satisfied House wasn't going to pounce, she said, "Dr. House believes there's a possibilty Charlie has gastrointestinal anthrax."

"Anthrax," Larry gasped. "Oh, my."

"We won't know for sure until the cultures are finished. But if it is anthrax, it has to be treated immediately, or..."

Larry waved his hand. "I don't want to hear the 'or,' Dr. Cameron. Thank you for being honest with us. Now I understand why Dr. House is convinced Charles has been out of the country." He looked down at Charlie's sleeping form. "Oh, Charles, where have you been, and why can't you..." Larry stopped and looked at Agent O'Connell. "You're the reason he won't tell anybody where he was last week."

O'Connell met Larry's gaze. "Dr. Eppes was in Washington, DC last week. He has not been out of the country since 2004."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Don looked at his watch again. The baggage carousel hadn't started moving, but he could hear activity on the other side of the wall. Finally, with a shudder and a growl, the baggage carousel started to move. The plane had been completely full, and each passenger wanted to be the first to get his luggage and get out of the airport. Don was certain that none of them was as desperate to get on the road as he was. He felt his father bumping into his elbow as he leaned forward to see the oncoming suitcases. "Dad," Don said gently, "I can get them. Why don't you get back so you don't get trampled?"

"All right, Donnie." Alan sounded deflated. Don turned and gave his dad a smile. "We'll be there soon. This time of night, the traffic can't be that bad."

Alan snorted. "Dreamer. There's my bag," he pointed as his suitcase appeared.

"Yep, and mine's right behind it," Don said. He reached through the jungle of lunging arms and managed to grab one suitcase in each hand. "Okay, let's go get the car."

A half an hour later, they were on the highway, heading toward Princeton. "I'm glad this car has one of those GPS systems," Don said. "It's been a long time since I've had to find my way to Princeton."

"Charlie was really looking forward to showing Amita around," Alan said, quietly. He looked over at Don, "How's Amita taking it?"

Don shook his head. "She's pretty upset. But it sounds like she's got things under control. She's got a good head on her shoulders. Dad, did Charlie say anything about what he was doing in DC last week?"

"No. Just that he would be consulting for some federal agency. Again. He never talks much about that stuff."

Don chuckled. "When I found out he consulted for the NSA, I kidded him about not being able to keep a secret. He really got offended."

"Well, it looks like he's gotten better at keeping secrets than he was when he was a kid," Alan said, smiling fondly. "We'd never tell him anything we didn't want the whole neighborhood to know."

Don laughed. "Oh, man. The things I used to have to threaten to do to him to keep him from telling you and Mom..."

"Telling us what?"

"Never mind. I'm sure he told you anyway."

"He probably did."

Amita looked at her watch and wondered if it had stopped. Larry raised his eyebrows at her, and she said, "Eleven oh five."

"Time has slowed down to a crawl," Larry said. He glanced at Charlie. "And yet it seems to be flying by so fast..."

"Relativity?" Amita said, smiling sadly as she touched Charlie's cheek.

He stirred and opened his eyes. "Hi," he croaked.

"Charlie! Would you like a drink?" Amita reached for his cup.

"Yes, please," Charlie said, shifting a little. Amita held the straw to his lips, and he drank deeply. "Mmm. Thanks. How long was I asleep?"

"Just a few hours. How are you feeling?"

"A little better. The sleep must have helped."

"Perhaps the antibiotics Dr. Cameron gave you are finally taking effect," Larry said.

"Antibiotics? I must have slept through that."

"You slept through a lot," Amita said as she poured more ice water into Charlie's cup. "I couldn't believe you slept through the colonoscopy."

"Did they find anything?" Charlie asked as he guided the straw towards his mouth.

"Not that they've told us," Larry said. "Dr. Cameron did say that Dr. House suspects anthrax. That's why he's convinced you've been out of the country."

"Anthrax? I thought anthrax had flu-like symptoms, coughing, that kind of thing. Not this," Charlie said, rubbing his stomach.

"Well," Amita said, "I did a little online research while you were sleeping. There are three forms of anthrax exposure, each with its own set of symptoms. Dr. House suspects you have gastrointestinal anthrax."

"I ate something infected?" Charlie said, looking queasy.

"You've got the classic symptoms," Larry said. "However, gastrointestinal anthrax is extremely rare in this country."

"Well," Charlie said uneasily, "I am one of a kind." He glanced at Agent O'Connell. "I wonder if anyone else in DC has come down with this."

O'Connell shrugged. "I haven't heard anything." He looked at his watch. "Reid will be here soon. After he comes, I'll call the office and see if there's any word on other cases. That information might be useful to Dr. House. Can't use the cell phone in here."

Amita flashed a dazzling smile, "But, Agent, you're the NSA. I thought you could do anything."

O'Connell went back to reading, and didn't look up until Agent Reid appeared in the doorway. The two men conferred quietly in the hallway and then O'Connell stuck his head back through the doorway. "Good night, lady and gentlemen. It's been fun."

"Creep," Amita whispered.

Reid took the seat O'Connell had vacated and pulled a crossword puzzle book out of his briefcase.

Charlie squeezed Amita's hand. "Did Mike give you a hard time?"

"Not really. I just wish he'd let you tell us where you were."

"I was in DC. Why don't you believe me?"

Amita searched Charlie's eyes until he looked away. She touched his cheek. "You're still hot," she said softly. "Are you sure you're feeling better?"

Charlie shrugged. "A little better. Have you heard from Dad and Don yet?"

"Don called me from the highway. He's going to call again when they're closer. It looks like they should be here around midnight. A little less than an hour."

"Good," Charlie said, closing his eyes. "I think I'll rest my eyes for a moment."

When he started to snore, Amita put the cup back on the night stand and leaned back in her chair.

House was pacing in front of his white board. Dr. Chase entered, dropping a stack of reports on the table. "So far, everything's negative."

"It's anthrax," House said, nodding toward Cameron, who sat studying slides under a microscope. "Have a look at the tissue we removed from his colon. There have been no other cases reported in DC or anywhere in the country for that matter. No anthrax of any kind in the past six months." He checked his watch. "Chase, go check Eppes's vitals, and get another blood sample. I want to make sure he's responding to treatment. His fever should have broken by now."

Chase looked longingly at the coffee pot.

"You've had it easy the past week, Chase. Time to earn your keep now. You can sleep when we solve this." He turned back to the white board. "We don't have enough yet. He's hiding something."

When Chase entered Charlie's room, the first thing he noticed was a stranger in scrubs pulling a hypodermic filled with blood from Charlie's arm. "Hey! Get away from him!"

Amita and Larry woke and stared at him. The new NSA agent stood and headed toward Chase. "Dr. Chase, it's all right."

"No, it's not all right," Chase said, dodging around the agent and reaching for the hypodermic needle.

Agent Reid grabbed Chase's arm and pushed him against the wall. "I said it's all right, Dr. Chase." Turning to the stranger, Reid said, "Get that out of here before someone else notices you."

Chase struggled against Reid's vice grip on his arm. "What did you give him?"

"Nothing. We just needed a sample of his blood. You seem to forget this is an NSA matter."

Chase pulled away from Reid and walked to Charlie's side. "And you seem to forget we have a seriously ill man here."

Charlie looked up at Chase, blinking in confusion. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Chase muttered. "Your mates at the NSA are trying to interfere with your treatment." He pulled out a thermometer. "How are you feeling, Charlie?"

"Tired. Thirsty."

Chase smiled, "That's natural." He squinted at the reading of the thermometer. "Still pretty high. How's the pain?" 

"Not bad."

"Still there though?" 

Charlie nodded.

Chase looked at the chart, and checked the IV bags. "I'm going to need to take some blood. That other guy who was just here taking your blood, did you notice if he injected anything?"

"No. I didn't even notice him until you came in."

Chase turned to Amita and Larry, who both shook their heads. Amita said, "I think I was sleeping."

"I'm sorry," Larry said, "I'm afraid I was sleeping, too."

Chase sighed and checked the injection site in Charlie's arm. "Well, if he did inject anything, it'll show up in this test." He drew the blood and bandaged the two needle pricks. As he left, he turned to Reid. "You understand I will be reporting this."

"Go right ahead," Reid said, shrugging. "We did nothing illegal."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

House shrugged when Chase reported what had happened in Charlie's room. "I'll talk to Cuddy about this. It won't the first time the feds have strong armed their way around here, so don't expect anything to happen. Wouldn't want to risk losing those tax dollars."

Chase snorted. "I wonder if I could bring assault charges against the bugger."

"Good luck with that. How's the patient, by the way?"

"His temp is up. Still in pain, but he says it's not bad. Blood work shows no change. But there was nothing there to begin with."

"Still nothing. That's good. His temp should on the way down. You still weren't able to get him to tell you where he really was last week?"

Chase shook his head. "No."

"Never send a boy to do a man's job," House said, limping from the room.

A little after midnight, Don and Alan walked into Charlie's room. Amita and Larry stood up as they entered, but Alan ignored them and went straight to his son's side. Touching Charlie's cheek gently, Alan said, "He's burning up."

Charlie's eyes fluttered open, and he looked confused for a moment. "Dad? Is it really you?"

"Yes, Son, it's me. Don's here too."

Charlie's eyes sought out Don, and he smiled weakly, "Hey, Bro."

"Buddy," Don said, "you look like crap."

Charlie chuckled and grimaced. "Don't make me laugh." He took a deep breath and continued, "I'm the patient. I'm supposed to look like crap. You, on the other hand, have no excuse." He coughed, and pressed a hand to his midsection. "Water?" He whispered.

Amita poured some fresh ice water into the cup and handed it to Alan. "The doctors said it's okay for him to drink this."

Alan nodded and held the straw to his son's lips. Charlie drank thirstily. "Thanks," he murmured when he had finished.

Alan put the cup down and gave Amita a hug, "How are you holding up?" He asked.

Amita blinked tears away and said, "As well as can be expected."

Don asked, "Do they have any idea what's wrong yet?"

Larry said, "They believe he may have ingested anthrax. They're treating him with antibiotics, but I haven't noticed much of a change..."

"Anthrax?" Don looked around the room and finally noticed Agent Reid. He walked across to the man and said, "Don Eppes, FBI. You Agent O'Connell?"

"No, I'm Frank Reid. Mike is taking a break. He said he talked to you. Nice to meet you."

"We'll see how nice it is," Don growled. "How did Charlie end up eating anthrax? What was he working on last week?"

"You know I can't tell you that, Agent Eppes. All you need to know is that he was in Washington doing some mathematical consulting. No field work."

"All I need to know is..." Don's voice started to get louder.

"Don," Alan said. "Not now. Not here."

Don turned his back on Reid and went back to Charlie's side. "Sorry." Don touched Charlie's cheek. "Hey, Buddy," he said softly.

Charlie's eyes opened and he smiled. "I'm glad you guys are here." His eyes closed again and he sighed.

Don said, "Dad, should we find this Dr. House and see what he has to say?"

"Ahh," Amita said, "you might not want to do that. Maybe we'll get lucky and one of the other doctors will show up. It's actually possible to talk to them."

"So what do we do?" Alan asked.

"Pull up a chair and wait," Larry said. "The doctors pop in here with some regularity."

"Wait?" Don was incredulous. "We flew all this way to wait for..."

"Is this my cue?" House said from the doorway.

"Dr. House," Amita said dully. "This is Charlie's father, Alan and his brother, Don."

"Damn. The only thing worse than patients is patients' families." He hobbled into the room, nudged Charlie from his sleep and said, "If you want to get better you're going to have to start telling us the truth."

Charlie stared groggily at the man and muttered, "What?"

"Unless you stop lying to me, I am going to send you packing." He laid his cane on the bed, pulled back the covers and began to use his fingers to probe Charlie's belly. He pressed down and released, and Charlie arched his back and cried out in pain.

Don jumped from his chair, grabbed House with one hand and the cane with the other and dragged the doctor from the room. When they were out of sight of the stunned people in Charlie's room, he pushed House against the wall. "I will not let you torture my brother. If you need information in order to help him, I will get that information for you. Charlie signed some sort of idiotic agreement with the NSA, and he can't help you, especially with an NSA agent sitting in the room with him. I'm an FBI agent. And Larry, Amita and my dad and I will do anything we can to help Charlie. You tell me what it is you need, and we will get it for you."

House pulled away from Don's grip. "Thank God! Finally someone with some balls. Your brother has been telling us he was in Washington last week and didn't leave the country. He has all the symptoms of gastrointestinal anthrax, but contracting that in this country is virtually impossible. He is not telling us the truth about where he was and what he was doing. And that misplaced desire to honor the terms of some goddamn contract may kill him. You find out where he was last week, and what he was doing, and we might just stand a chance of saving his life."

"I'll do that. No more torture."

"Torture? That," House waved toward Charlie's room, "that is called rebound tenderness. It means the infection, or whatever it is, has moved from his intestines into the lining of his abdominal cavity. It means the treatments for anthrax are not working. It means your brother is getting worse. It means we don't have much more time."

"How will you treat it?"

"More antibiotics. Maybe surgery. Leave that to me. You get me what I need to save his life." House grabbed his cane from Don's hand, turned and limped away.

Don returned to Charlie's room. "Amita, why don't you show me where we'll be staying?"

Amita looked at Charlie. "But, Don..."

"Larry and Dad can stay with him 'til we get back. We won't be gone that long."

"Okay," Amita said.

"And bring your computer along, too, why don't you? I'd like to check my email."

Amita looked at Charlie's computer. "But..."

"It's gonna be okay, Amita," Don said firmly. "Come with me. We could both use some fresh air. Come on."

When they were out of the room, Don said, "House needs to know where Charlie was and what he was doing. Otherwise Charlie won't make it. Amita, I know that's Charlie's computer. He had it with him last week, so there must be something on it that will give us a clue."

"But he encrypts all his stuff."

"I know. That's why I needed you to come with me. I need you to break into his computer. I also want to have a look at his room. See if there's anything useful there. I'm sorry I couldn't explain this to you in there. I just didn't want the NSA to know what we're up to."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Alan sat in the chair Amita had vacated and gazed at Charlie for a few moments. Charlie had passed out from the pain, but was now breathing easily and deeply. Alan hoped he was just sleeping. Finally Alan looked up at Larry. "I have no idea what that was all about. Why was Don so anxious to leave?"

"Perhaps he wanted to get your suitcases out of the car?" Larry suggested, glancing at Agent Reid.

"Probably. He is very concerned about security. And after whatever went on between him and Dr. House, he probably needed to get out of here for a while."

Dr. Cameron entered the room, and looked with surprise at Alan. "Hi, I'm Dr. Cameron," she said as Alan stood to greet her. "Please, don't get up."

"I'm Charlie's father, Alan," he said as he sat back down.

"All the way from California, this quickly?" Cameron said, surprised.

"My older son was fortunate to book us on a flight right away. He's gone to wherever it is we're staying. Amita's showing him the way. He should be back shortly. He, ah, had a little disagreement with Dr. House."

Cameron laughed. "So he's the one! I heard about it through the grapevine. I wish I'd seen it."

"He's the one who what? We didn't follow them after he dragged Dr. House from the room."

"From what I heard, your son slammed House against the wall and read him the riot act."

Larry nodded, "That sounds like something Don would do. Given what Dr. House did to poor Charles..."

Cameron nodded, "I heard about that, too. He was testing for rebound tenderness. It's very painful. Your son has peritonitis, an infection of the peritoneum, the lining of the abdominal cavity. When you press on the abdomen and release the pressure suddenly, the peritoneum rebounds, and the pain can be excruciating."

"But he did that – he hurt Charlie – to get him to admit he lied. Why would he do such a thing?" Alan asked, his voice trembling.

"I won't try to defend Dr. House's methods, but I will tell you he is the best in this country, probably in the world. Your son is lucky he was brought to us."

"Lucky," Alan said softly.

Cameron smiled. "He's also lucky to have such devoted friends and family, Mr. Eppes." She held up two syringes. "I'm here to start Charlie on a couple of new antibiotics. Dr. House isn't happy with the progress of the other two he's been on." She injected the antibiotics into the IV port. "This first one should help clear up the peritonitis. We're hoping the second one will attack the original infection."

"But you don't know for sure?" Alan asked.

"No, we don't. Because we haven't figured out exactly what's wrong with Charlie, we're taking a few educated guesses. It's important that we start treatment immediately and some of the tests we're running take days to produce an answer." She took Charlie's temperature. Alan could tell from her expression that it wasn't good. "We're going to have to start sponging Charlie off to try to get his temperature down. I'll send in a nurse."

Don pulled his rental car into the parking area behind the Peacock Inn. He smiled at Amita. "Charlie picked out a great place. We can walk back to the hospital from here." He unlocked the trunk and took out the two suitcases. Amita grabbed the carry ons along with Charlie's computer bag. Ms. Lindsay looked up from her desk as they entered. "Dr. Ramanujan! How is the conference going?"

"Not so great, Ms. Lindsay. This is Don Eppes, Charlie's brother. Charlie's in the hospital."

"Oh, dear! What happened?"

"We're not sure. He collapsed during his presentation. Dr. Fleinhardt is with him now, along with Charlie's dad. Don and Mr. Eppes will be staying in Charlie's room, if that's okay."

"Oh, that will be fine. I'm afraid we're booked for next week though."

"I hope we'll all be back in California by then," Don said.

Ms. Lindsay blushed, "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to sound ... well, if you do end up having to stay in Princeton, for whatever reason, I will help you find suitable accommodations. If I have a cancellation, you can stay. And please, let me know if there's anything I can do to help. You look beat, and I'll bet you haven't had a decent meal all day, either of you. Would you like me to have the kitchen fix something for you?"

Don glanced at Amita and said, "That would be wonderful. Don't have them go to a lot of trouble, okay? Sandwiches would be fine. And coffee. Lots of coffee."

Ms. Lindsay smiled, "Would you like me to make up the pull out bed in Dr. Eppes's room for you and your father?"

Don smiled, "Thank you, but I think we'll be staying at the hospital for the rest of tonight anyway."

"I'll just put some bedding in there, so you can make it up if you do decide to come back. Do you have Dr. Eppes' key?"

Amita rummaged in the computer bag and held up Charlie's room key.

"Wonderful. I'll give you a spare in case you and your father come in and out separately. And would you mind filling in a registration card?"

Don filled in the card, got the key, and let Amita lead him to Charlie's room. He unlocked the door, and put out a hand to hold Amita back. "Does it look like anybody's been in here?"

Amita looked around, trying to remember what it looked like when she has last seen it over eighteen hours ago. "It looks like the housekeeper was in here, so it's hard to say."

Don nodded and let her lead the way into the room. She opened the drawers and examined their contents. She checked his suitcase. "It looks like he left some papers here." She lifted out some folders. "These papers don't belong in this file. They're part of his cognitive emergence work. They go in this folder."

"How good is he about keeping his folders organized?" Don asked. "I mean, I've seen his office, and organization doesn't seem to be his strong suit."

Amita laughed. "Well, if it's in a folder, it's going to be in the right one. When he bothers to put stuff away, he puts it in the right place."

"Can you tell if anything is missing?"

"There's no way I'd know. I don't know what he brought."

"Okay. Well, I'm making this up as I go, but so far my plan is to call and check his cell phone records. I'm hoping we can figure out where he was last week. While I'm doing that, you'll break into his computer and see what work he's done between the time he left LA and today."

"Don, breaking into Charlie's computer is not going to be easy. His encryption, especially on his government work is the best."

"If anyone can do it, Amita, you can. You've worked with him. You've probably even helped him develop his security applications." He smiled as Amita shrugged noncommittally. "Don't tell me about it. Just find me something that will tell me where he was and where the anthrax came from."

"Okay, he's given me access to a lot of areas on his computer. And that stuff would be very hard for anyone else to hack. I'm hoping once I've gotten this far, the steps to the secret stuff won't be as hard. He's let me in the front door. Now I just have to crack the safe." She sat down on the sofa and took Charlie's computer out of his briefcase.

Don sat on the sofa, took out his cell phone and dialed. "Megan, I'm sorry to call you so late... I know... " he sighed, "He's not doing too well. They need to know where he was last week. He claims he was in Washington, but the doctors believe he was out of the country... Yeah... I need his cell phone records, and I don't know... Yeah, thanks." He looked at his watch. "You're still in the office? What's up?... Come on, you can tell me. I promise I won't rush back... Okay. Of course you can handle it... Okay, thanks." He hung up and turned to Amita. "She'll call me back. How's it going?" 

"Don!" Amita said, shaking her head. "It's going to take me longer than that!"

"Anything I can do to help?" Don asked.

She shook her head. "Just hope they get here with the coffee soon."

"Can you give me a layman's explanation of what's involved? You know, 'computers for dummies?"

"You're no dummy, Don.. But the simple explanation is that Charlie's computer changes all the data to a code. To change it back, we need the key to the code, and that key is a very long sequence of numbers, letters and special characters."

"So it's not exactly like your four digit PIN number for your debit card."

Amita laughed. "Not exactly."

Don shook his head, "So how do you figure out what he used? It seems like it would be pretty much impossible to guess what sequence he'd use. I mean, it's not like Charlie would have to use something that I'd find easy to remember, like birthdays, old phone numbers, that kind of thing. He remembers numbers."

"Yes, he does," Amita said. "But remember he always says that that people who are trying to do things randomly will fail. Even Charlie can be predictable, especially to someone who knows him, who knows his work."

"Charlie? Predictable?" Don laughed.

There was a knock at the door. Don opened the door to see a young man holding a large tray. "Hi, Mr. Eppes? Ms. Lindsay asked me to bring this up to you."

"Thanks. Hey, that smells good," Don said, stepping back to let the young man into the room. He set the tray on the table. "I'm sorry it isn't much. Ms. Lindsay said to get you something fast. And she wanted me to let you know there's no charge. Okay, we've got a couple of roast beef sandwiches, a couple of turkey sandwiches. There's a couple of salads. I gave you an assortment of dressings, 'cause I didn't know what you like. And some fruit and cookies for dessert. And coffee. She said you wanted lots of coffee, so I brought two carafes."

"Wow," Don said, "that's amazing. Tell Ms. Lindsay we really appreciate this."

"Great, I will. And if you need anything else, the extension in the kitchen is 230. We'll be here a little while longer, getting ready for the morning crew. Don't hesitate to call us! This is a lot more fun than scouring the oven."

Don laughed. "I can appreciate that."

The young man took his leave, and Don and Amita took a much needed break.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Don and Amita ate their fill, then wrapped up the remaining sandwiches and cookies for Alan and Larry. Don's cell phone rang. "Eppes," he answered. "Hey, Megan, that was fast... Okay, what do you have?... Okay, ... Really?... I don't believe it... Okay, well thanks." He hung up and stared at the phone, shaking his head.

"What?" Amita asked.

"Charlie was in Baghdad last week."

"Baghdad?! What on earth was he doing there?"

"No idea." Don gestured at Charlie's computer. "But maybe you'll find something in there." He took out his cell phone. "I'm going to call Dad. Hopefully he forgot to turn off his cell phone."

Alan looked around guiltily as his cell phone rang. He slipped it out of his pocket, silenced the ringer and looked at the caller ID. He flipped the phone open and whispered, "Donnie?"

"Hey, Dad. I was hoping you forgot to turn your phone off. Listen, are you sitting down?"

"Why? What now?"

"Okay, Dad, be careful of your reactions now. Don't let that NSA agent know what's going on, okay?"

"All right. Go ahead." Alan took a deep breath and gripped the arm of his chair with his free hand.

"I found out where Charlie was last week. He was in Baghdad."

Alan opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and finally started to speak. "Well, that's wonderful, Donnie. It sounds like a beautiful place."

"See if you can get away from the NSA guys and let House know, okay?"

"I will do that, Son. And thank you. Are you and Amita going to be back soon?"

Don's smile filled his voice. "Yeah, Amita's trying to hack into Charlie's computer now. We've got sandwiches and coffee and will be there as soon as we can."

Alan hung up his phone and said to Larry, "Don and Amita will be back in a little while with sandwiches and coffee."

"Oh, that would be wonderful!" Larry said, grinning.

Alan touched Charlie's face, and picked up the cold washcloth the nurse had left after she had given Charlie a sponge bath. He wiped Charlie's face and arms. Charlie muttered something in his sleep and pulled away from the washcloth. "Shhhh." Alan soothed. "It's going to be all right, my baby boy." Alan put the washcloth on the night stand and stood. "Larry, I'm going to stretch my legs before Donnie gets here. Will you hold down the fort for me?"

"Of course, Alan," Larry stood and took Alan's seat. "I'll be right here."

Alan patted Larry's shoulder. "Thank you, Larry." He nodded to Reid as he left.

Once out of Reid's sight, Alan found a nurse and asked for directions to Dr. House's office. The nurse looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am," Alan said firmly. She shrugged and gave him the directions. He only got lost once in the maze of a hospital. House's door was open, and in the subdued light, Alan saw the doctor, leg elevated on his desk, leaning back with his keyboard on his lap, staring at his computer monitor.

Alan knocked on the door, and House glared at him. "What?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I have some information I think you might need. Charlie was in Baghdad last week."

"Well, well," House said. "That makes a whole lot of sense. Any idea what he was doing there?"

"He consults for a few government agencies. It could have been any of them, though it was probably the NSA the way they have their watchdogs shadowing him."

"What kind of consulting?"

"He's a world class mathematician. So I assume it's something to do with that."

House picked up a pink tennis ball the size of a softball and tossed it into the air. "So how does a world class mathematician end up exposed to anthrax in Baghdad?"

Alan started to reply, and House cut him off. "That was rhetorical." He used both hands to lift his right leg from the desk, then pulled himself painfully to his feet. "Get back to your son and let me get my minions to work on this new bit of information."

House left the room without another word, and went next door, where his team was drinking coffee and chatting. "Listen up," he said, limping to the white board. "We've finally got something new to work with."

"What, did the patient develop new symptoms?" Foreman said sarcastically.

"No, smart guy. He was lying to us, for some ridiculous reason. Who'd a thunk it? He wasn't in Washington, DC all week." House paused. "What, no drumroll? Anyway, he was in Baghdad."

"Iraq," Chase looked up, shocked.

"No, Baghdad, Ohio. Of course, Iraq. Home of those never discovered weapons of mass destruction. Like those lovely new and improved diseases designed to foil diagnosticians all over the world."

Cameron nodded. "If Charlie was infected with a weaponized version of anthrax, who knows what treatments will work on it."

"Who knows, indeed. I'm hoping our intrepid FBI agent will be able to find out for us. Only a government full of idiots would design a disease they have no cure for. No, wait, that pretty much describes the Iraqis. Never mind." He picked up a marker and wrote "genetically altered anthrax" on the white board. He turned and looked at his team. "Begone, minions! Find me everything you can about weaponized anthrax."

Amita sat back and rubbed her eyes. "Don," she said, "I think I've got something."

Don sat beside her and looked at the screen. He didn't see anything that made sense. "What am I looking at?" He said.

"Well, let me clean it up a bit, but I think I've gotten into Charlie's encrypted email." She tapped the keys and before long, had a list of Charlie's emails from the last two weeks.

Don's eyes widened as he saw the return addresses on the messages. "You know we shouldn't be looking at these."

"I know. But look at this one." Amita clicked on a message with the subject line "June 1 trip. Eppes, Mason, Davis and Hasigawa." The message set a date and a time for Charlie and three other men to meet at the NSA headquarters, packed for a one week trip to a hot climate.

The remaining messages didn't give any details of the job they were to do. But then Don saw a message from Charlie to Assistant Director Robert Tompkins and asked Amita to open it. Charlie was apologizing for delaying their departure. 'But we've been invited to dinner tonight at the home of Deputy Minister Ali Abu-Hassan. Mason felt it was best it we accepted. Hasigawa made arrangements for us to catch a later flight.' The message was dated four days ago.

Don whistled. "So that may be where he was exposed. I wonder who these other guys are, Mason, Davis and Hasigawa. Do any of the names sound familiar to you?"

Amita shook her head. "No. It would help if we knew something about what they were doing. If they're other civilian consultants, I could Google them. But the names are to common to be useful. I will Google Ali Abu-Hassan, though. Maybe we can learn something about him."

The thought that his little brother had been in Baghdad on some kind of secret government consulting gig, and had been exposed to some of Saddam's weapons of mass destruction scared the daylights out of Don. He wanted to run over to the hospital, take Charlie in his arms and will him back to health. Instead, he took out his cell phone and went through his contact list. Glancing at the time, he sighed and dialed.

After what seemed like forever, a groggy voice answered, "Havercamp."

"Lieutenant Havercamp, this is Don Eppes. I am so sorry to call you at this hour, but I need your help."

"Agent Eppes? What's wrong?"

Don took a deep breath. "It's my brother, Charlie. He's sick and the doctors think it's gastrointestinal anthrax. He was in Baghdad..."

"Stop. Give me a land line where I can reach you. These cell phones aren't secure. I'll call you in five minutes."

Don gave her the number for the phone on Charlie's nightstand.

"New Jersey?" Havercamp asked. "Why...? No, wait. I'll call you." She hung up.

Don sat, his hand on the phone, counting the seconds. Finally, after three and a half minutes, the phone rang. "Eppes," he answered.

"Don," Havercamp said, 'What is going on there?"

Don gave her the details, as far as he knew them, and answered when she interrupted him with questions. He gave her the names of the three men who were with Charlie, and the name of their dinner host.

He could hear Havercamp take a deep breath and release it slowly. Finally she said, "You must understand that what I'm about to tell you is classified at the National Security level. The only reason I'm telling you is that it's imperative that Charlie is treated immediately. Mason died yesterday, and Davis are in critical condition."

"The NSA has two agents assigned to Charlie now. They're taking turns staying with him," Don said.

Amita looked up, suddenly remembering something. "Excuse me, Don, but someone from the NSA also took a sample of Charlie's blood. I don't know where he took it, but he came in posing as a doctor, and Agent Reid stopped Dr. Chase from getting the blood sample away from him. I don't know if it's important..."

Don passed Amita's information to Havercamp. She asked, "Do you know if the agents are influencing Charlie's treatment at all?"

"I just got here. Let me ask Amita."

When he repeated Havercamp's question, Amita said, "They haven't said anything while I've been there. But there are two of them. I don't know where the off-duty agent goes when he leaves Charlie's room."

"I'd like to know what the NSA knows about this," Havercamp said. "I'll get the information on the treatments the other three men received, and give it to your Dr. House. That might help him eliminate something."

"Do you know anything about the anthrax they ingested?"

"It's a genetically altered form of the disease. We'll need to find out what was done to alter it. I'll get on it right away and get back to you as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Lieutenant Havercamp. I really appreciate this," Don said.

"Any time. Just pray we can come up with the right treatment in time."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Larry looked up as Alan returned. "He's been sleeping like the proverbial baby," he said, standing to let Alan take the seat near Charlie's head. "And I do believe he feels a little cooler."

"That's wonderful, Larry," Alan said, taking his seat and touching Charlie's cheek. "He does feel cooler. Though it might be wishful thinking."

"How was your walk?" Larry asked.

"Fine. If you want to take a break, go ahead," Alan said. He suddenly wished he could tell Larry what Don had told him. He suddenly wished he could wake Charlie up and ask him what the hell he was doing in Baghdad. But Charlie had gone to such great extents to keep his secret, that Alan knew he should just keep his mouth shut until they somehow managed to get rid of the NSA agents. He hoped his baby boy's sense of honor wouldn't be the death of him.

Charlie moaned and turned towards Alan. "Dad?" he croaked.

"Charlie, Son, would you like a drink?"

"Please," Charlie whispered.Alan held the straw to Charlie's lips and wiped his son's fevered face with the damp washcloth. "Mmmm. Thanks. That feels good." He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of the cool washcloth. After a few long moments, he opened his eyes, "Dad? Where are Don and Amita?"

"They went back to the inn."

Charlie looked at the chair where Amita had been sitting. "The briefcase?" he asked.

"She took it with her. I guess she wanted to use her computer."

Charlie smiled and sighed. "Good."

Agent Reid looked up from his puzzle. "Dr. Eppes? Was that your briefcase?"

Charlie closed his eyes and didn't answer.

Reid stood and walked to Charlie's side. "Dr. Eppes?"

Charlie opened his eyes and said, "The briefcase belongs to Amita."

"And the computer?"

"Hers."

Reid looked at Charlie's face and then nodded and sat back down.

Charlie glanced at Alan and smiled. "Could I have more water?"

"Of course, Son," Alan said, putting the straw to Charlie's lips.

House scowled as his phone rang. It rang four times, then stopped. It rang four more times and stopped. On the third set of rings, he sighed and picked it up, "What?!"

"Dr. House, my name is Havercamp. I'm with public health. I've been talking to Agent Don Eppes about his brother, your patient, Dr. Charles Eppes."

House sat up, suddenly interested, "Yes?"

Havercamp told House about the other three consultants. She also gave him the list of treatments that had been tried, unsuccessfully.

"Dr. Havercamp," House began.

"Lieutenant."

"Whatever. Thank you for this. Please call me if you find out anything else about these patients."

"I will. And would you call me if you find something that works?"

"Definitely." House hung up, grabbed his cane and limped into the adjoining room, where his team was busily researching genetically altered anthrax. "Wake up!" he yelled, slamming his cane onto the table in front of Chase.

Chase looked up at House and grumbled, "I am awake."

"Good. I just got a very interesting phone call about three other patients with gastrointestinal anthrax, one of whom has kicked the bucket. The other two are in critical condition."

"And that is helpful how?" Foreman asked.

House limped to the white board and began writing. "The poor slob who died was treated with cipro alone. The other two are being treated with cipro and chloramphenicol. So we can eliminate those treatments. Which antibiotics did you choose to use on our guinea pig, Cameron?"

"Cipro and ampicillin at first, then cipro and rifampin. Then I added cefotaxime for the peritonitis. He seems to be responding to the cefotaxime, by the way."

"Well, that's good anyway. He won't be dying of peritonitis before the anthrax can kill him." House drew a line, and below that line he made two columns, one headed "cipro" and the other headed "doxycycline" below each, he wrote the names of eight other antibiotics, rifampin, vancomycin, penicillin, ampicillin, chloramphenicol, imipenem, clindamycin, and clarithromycin. Then he crossed out the chloramphenicol, rifampin and ampicillin below cipro. "Okay, that leave us five to try with cipro and eight to try with doxycycline. Leaving time for them to work, unless we get lucky and hit the right combination in the first couple of tries, he won't live long enough for us to finish the experiment. Suggestions?"

"Double up on the secondary antibiotics?" Chase offered.

"It'll still take too long," Foreman said.

"Why not give him the cipro with the remaining five antibiotics?" Cameron suggested.

"I like that," House said, "blast him with so many antibiotics the antrax won't know what hit 'em."

"What about interactions?" Foreman objected.

"The interactions won't be harmful," House said, tapping on the board with his cane. "Maybe increase or decrease the efficiency of one or more of the antibiotics." He turned to Cameron. "Do it. Chase, you look into bacteriophages. See if any have been approved for human testing. Maybe we can attack the bacteria with a virus and be done with it."

Amita was saving the files she had unencrypted. Don decided to make another phone call. When the call went to voice mail, he pressed 'end' and hit 'redial' On the third try, someone answered. Don heard rustling and a muffled curse. "Colby?" he yelled into the phone.

"Don, what's up?" Colby was suddenly awake.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything," Don said, chuckling.

"Just my beauty sleep."

"Alone?"

Colby chuckled, "Unfortunately, yes. How's Charlie?"

"Not good. I need you to take advantage of some of your special contacts."

"Anything, Don."

"Thanks. You're not going to believe this, but Charlie was in Baghdad last week. He managed to pick up anthrax while he was there."

Colby swore softly.

"Yeah, my feelings exactly. Anyway, on Saturday, his last day there, he and three other consultants had dinner at the home of Deputy Minister Ali Abu-Hassan. One of the consultants has died, and the other two are in critical condition. Charlie's doing a little better, but not much."

"That sucks, Don. I'll find everything I can on this Abu-Hassan character."

"Thanks, Colby. I owe you. You can even sit at my desk 'til I get back."

Colby laughed. "Gee, thanks, Boss. I'll get back to you the minute I find anything."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Don carried the briefcase and Amita carried the sandwiches and coffee as they walked back to the hospital. It was almost four in the morning, and Amita pulled her jacket closed. against the chill air. "Have you ever been to Princeton before?" Amita asked as they crossed the street.

"Yeah, years ago when Charlie was in school here. Dad and I came to visit him and Mom a few times. It's a beautiful place, but I don't think he was ever really happy here."

"It is a beautiful campus. Charlie was so excited about showing us around this morning. He was like a little kid. Oh, God, Don, so much has happened. I can't believe it was just this morning..."

"I know," Don said sadly, putting his arm around Amita's shoulders. Then, trying to lighten the mood, he said, "Hey, is Charlie going to be upset his encryption wasn't infallible?"

Amita smiled. "Probably. But it'll give him something to do while he recuperates. And I actually think he'll be glad we got the information he wasn't allowed to give us."

"True." Don shook his head. "I can't believe he would keep this secret, as sick as he is. I don't know if I could do it."

"Oh, come on, Don, you're the big tough federal agent," Amita giggled. "You wouldn't let a wimpy math professor show you up."

Don chuckled. "Wimpy is not a term I would ever use to describe Charlie."

They entered Charlie's room quietly. Everybody but the NSA agent was sound asleep. Alan had rested his head on the bed next to Charlie and Larry was slumped in his chair. Agent Reid glanced up as they entered, then went back to his puzzle. Don sighed and approached the agent. "Any news?" he whispered.

Reid looked up, surprised at Don's question. "Uhhh. Not really. The doctors were in here, trying some new treatment. They said your brother's temperature had gone down a bit, which is good news." Reid smiled.

"Don't worry about it. "What was the treatment?"

"Your dad will know for sure. From what I could gather, it was a cocktail of – I think they said six – antibiotics. They were also talking about doing some experimental treatment, something to do with a virus to attack the bacteria." He shrugged. "Believe it or not, I'm not trying to intrude on your family's lives here."

"I appreciate that, Frank," Don said. He looked at his sleeping family and sighed. "Looks like we should have taken a nap, Amita. Hey, Frank, would you like some coffee? The lady the inn gave us some coffee to bring back with us. It's probably better than the schlock you get here."

"Thanks," Agent Reid held out his cup as Amita filled it.

Amita settled back into the chair she had sat in most of the day, and opened the briefcase to take the computer out. She caught Reid looking at her and said, "What?"

"Nothing. You're on the computer a lot."

She shrugged. "You do puzzles. I do computers."

"I thought that might be Dr. Eppes' computer."

Amita looked at Don, not sure how to answer that. Finally she said, "We both use it."

A few minutes later, Alan stirred and sat up rubbing his eyes groggily. "Donnie, Amita. When did you get back?"

"A little while ago. Want a sandwich and some coffee, Dad? The lady at the inn had it sent up to the room for us."

"Ah, that would be wonderful. Thank you," he said, standing up and stretching the kinks out of his back.

"Agent Reid tells me they've come up with a treatment for Charlie," Don said as Amita handed Alan a sandwich.

"Yes, they're hoping a combination of antibiotics might do the trick. Apparently there's a whole list of antibiotics they usually use for anthrax, sometimes combined with cipro, and sometimes combined with another one, but I don't remember the name. They decided to start him on the group with cipro, then they're talking about a bacteriophage, an enzyme that attacks the anthrax bacteria. But they haven't found one that's been approved for use in humans yet."

"Whoa," Don said. "They're talking about experimental treatments already?"

Alan nodded. "Dr. House seems to think this might be some kind of genetically altered bacteria."

"Genetically altered? Like weapons of mass destruction?" Don asked.

Alan shrugged. "Possibly. But whatever it is, it's not responding to treatments like normal anthrax. He has his suspicions. He wanted to know where Charlie's been and what he's been doing, I guess so he can figure out what he's dealing with. I told him everything I knew about Charlie's activities the past few weeks."

Don nodded and smiled, "I'm sure that was helpful."

Alan grinned, "I hope so."

Alan sat back down with his sandwich and coffee and ate in silence. Don slumped in his chair and closed his eyes. He must have gone to sleep because he found himself waking up to the sounds of activity in the room. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Alan was sitting up, holding a cup of ice water for Charlie. "Well, good morning, sleeping beauty," Alan said with a chuckle.

Don looked at his watch. "Wow, seven already?" He looked at Charlie, who was staring back in his general direction. "Hey, Buddy. You're awake."

Charlie smiled slowly. "Yeah," he whispered.

"I heard they tried a new treatment. Feeling any better?"

Charlie shrugged. "A little. I don't know."

Don got up, stretching his back out, and walked to Charlie's side. He looked fondly down at his brother and bent to hug him. He whispered, "We know about Baghdad. Havercamp's on it."

Charlie looked up at him as he stood. His expression was confused at first. But then Don could see the comprehension dawning as he nodded slowly. "It's good to see you too, Bro," Charlie said.

Larry stirred and woke up, blinking owlishly in the bright light. Don offered him the last of the sandwiches and a cup of cold coffee, which he accepted gratefully. "Don," he said, "Were you able to get any rest?"

Don shrugged. "Enough."

"Charles!" Larry exclaimed. "It's nice to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

Charlie shrugged and closed his eyes. "Not so hot," he whispered. "Tired."

Alan touched Charlie's face. "You feel a little cooler."

"Good," Charlie said. "Don?" he opened his eyes and looked for his brother. When he found him, he grinned, "Thanks." His eyes drifted shut again.

Agent Reid said, "Don, what was he thanking you for?"

"Who knows?" Don said. "Probably delirious."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Don's phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID. "I've got to take this," he said, leaving the room. When he got into the hallway, far enough that he figured Reid wouldn't hear him, he said, "Colby? What have you got for me?"

"Well, hello to you too, Boss," Colby chuckled. "All right. Deputy Minister Ali Abu-Hassan became ill yesterday. Same symptoms as Charlie had. He was taken to a hospital, and was released the same day. My sources are trying to track down the Iraqi doctors who treated him."

"Okay, good. And, by the way, good morning, Colby. How are you today?"

"Great, Don. How's Charlie doing?"

"I think he's getting better. His fever is down."

"That's good news. Listen, I'll keep pushing to find out what they used to treat Abu-Hassan. By the way, they found out it was Abu-Hassan's son who dosed his father and his guests with anthrax. He'll probably be executed pretty soon, but I understand he's being questioned pretty closely about where he got the anthrax. Looks like Charlie may have stumbled on some of Saddam's weapons of mass destruction."

"Crap," Don said. "Charlie never does things the easy way, does he?"

Colby laughed. "No, he doesn't. Hey, when you talk to the Whiz Kid again, tell him we're all thinking of him, will you? And you hang in there, Don. We're all doing everything we can."

"I know, Colby. Thanks, and tell the rest of the team I really appreciate it."

"I will, Don. I'll keep you posted."

Don sighed after he hung up, and leaned against the wall. Finally, he opened his phone again and dialed information. In a few moments, he was dialing another number.

"National Security Agency, how may I direct your call?" A woman with a pleasant but businesslike voice answered on the first ring.

"Assistant Director Robert Tompkins, please. Special Agent Don Eppes calling."

"One moment, Agent Eppes."

Less than a minute later, Robert Tompkins picked up. "Agent Eppes, what can I do for you?"

"I'm calling about my brother, Charlie. I understand he's been doing some work for your agency."

"Yes?" Tompkins was carefully non-committal.

"Well, you probably know that Charlie came back from Baghdad with a case of anthrax, and that the other consultants and their Iraqi host..."

"What makes you think Charlie was in Baghdad?"

"His cell phone roaming records. A colleague of his was able to break his encryption and read his email. And I have my agents making inquiries. Please give us a little credit, Mr. Tompkins."

Don heard Tompkins sigh. "Listen, Don, we are on it, too. We've already lost one person to this thing,..."

"What about the treatment Abu-Hassan received?"

"We're trying to track that down. For some reason, the Iraqis are not being very forthcoming. We have to proceed carefully."

"With all due respect, Sir, we may not have time to proceed carefully. My brother and the other two surviving consultants..."

"I know, Don. Listen, I'll see what I can find for you. Can I reach you at the phone you're on now?"

"Yeah, it's my cell. I'll have it with me all day. And, thanks."

"You're welcome." The connection went dead. Don closed his phone and stopped at the nurse's station to get directions to House's office.

House was tapping the whiteboard with his cane. "His fever's down, but are the antibiotics doing anything to the anthrax? Or is the fever down because the antibiotics are working on the peritonitis?"

Chase yawned and shrugged. "Dunno."

"Well, then take a wild guess!" House growled.

"I would guess we need to let the antibiotics work," Chase said, flipping through the pages of a medical journal.

"Find anything on the bacteriophages yet?"

"A Dr. Adukalil here at Princeton is working on it. I've put a call in to him, though you might be more convincing than I." He stopped to glance up at House, who, surprisingly, had no snide comment. "None of the bacteriophages has been approved for human testing in the US yet. I'm checking to see if they've been used on humans in any other countries." He stopped and looked up at House, "Assuming, of course you don't care about government approval."

"Seeing as how we're dealing with the NSA, and they apparently are a law unto themselves, I imagine we won't be encumbered by a whole hell of a lot of red tape," House said. "Get back to it and see what you can find. Iraq might have something. Maybe we'll get lucky and whoever invented this lovely strain of anthrax also came up with a cure for it. Meanwhile, I'll go visit Dr. Adukalil in person. Cameron, I'll need you to get written permission from our patient. Explain that this treatment is experimental, possibly illegal, but if it's the only thing that will save him, we need his permission in writing before he goes into a coma."

"But," Cameron said, "he is responding to the treatment."

"It doesn't hurt to be prepared. Weren't you ever a Boy Scout. Foreman, do another colonoscopy. See if the lesions have changed at all." There was a rapping on the door frame, and House looked up to see Don standing in the doorway. "Well come on down. We're just discussing your brother's colon."

Don entered the room, nodding a greeting to the other doctors, and approached House. "I have a little more information on how my brother contracted anthrax."

"Good. Have a seat," House said waving toward the table where the others sat.

"No thanks. This won't take long. Charlie and three other NSA consultants ate dinner with an Iraqi deputy minister. The deputy minister got sick yesterday, was taken to an Iraqi hospital and released hours later. I've contacted the assistant director of the NSA to see if they can find out what the treatment was. The anthrax was given to them by the deputy minister's son."

House nodded. "That will be helpful if we get the information before your brother dies. Meanwhile, I'm pursuing an experimental treatment that's been developed right here at Princeton. Dr. Cameron will be asking your brother to sign a consent form in case the antibiotics we're using don't work."

"Don't work?" Don looked at House in surprise. "But his temperature is going down, isn't it?"

Cameron glared at House, then turned to Don. "He does appear to be getting better, yes. But Dr. House just wants to be prepared."

Foreman smirked. "Yeah, just like a real boy scout."

Cameron glared at Foreman, then stood. "Let me walk with you. I'll try to explain House's thinking."

"Good luck!" House called after them as they left.

"How do you work with that man?" Don asked, shaking his head.

Cameron laughed. "He's the best diagnostician in the country. Believe it or not, there's a waiting list a mile long of people who want to work for him. But he is frustrating and annoying."

"That's putting it mildly," Don said. "So what were you going to explain to me about House's thinking?"

"Because we're dealing with genetically altered anthrax, it's possible that it could mutate faster than normal anthrax."

"What would that do?"

"If it mutates, it could turn into an antibiotic resistant form before the antibiotics can completely kill it off. You know how doctors always insist that you take all of the antibiotics prescribed, even though you may feel better?"

"Yeah."

"Well, the antibiotics start killing the bacteria immediately but it can take days or even weeks to get rid of all of them. With genetically altered bacteria, it's possible that in the period of days or weeks, the bacteria will reproduce quickly, and the offspring will be mutated forms that are resistant to the antibiotics. Since we're giving Charlie all of the antibiotics that are known to be effective against anthrax, that doesn't leave us with a normal backup plan."

"So your backup is this experimental treatment, and if Charlie does take a turn for the worse, he won't be able to sign the consent form at that time."

"Right. So that's why I need him to sign the consent form now." They arrived at Charlie's room. "You go ahead in. I'm going to get the papers I need."

"Okay. And thanks, Dr. Cameron."

"You're welcome. Sometimes I feel my job on this team is to explain House to patients and their families. He's brilliant, but..."

"Not a people person?" Don supplied with a chuckle.

"Definitely not!" Cameron said, smiling at Don. "See you in a few minutes."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Hey, Don," Charlie said as Don entered. His voice was stronger, and he was beginning to get his color back.

"Hey, Buddy! You're looking good! You feeling better?"

"Yeah, I am. All those antibiotics must finally be working." He reached for the control and raised the head of his bed slightly. "That's better." He reached for his cup and sipped some ice water. He grimaced and rubbed his belly. "Still sore," he murmured.

"Well," Alan said, "you can't expect to be a hundred percent instantly."

"I know, Dad," Charlie said. "So, Don, is everything going well back home?" At Don's confused glance, Charlie added, "Dad said you got a phone call. I assume it was work."

"It was Colby. He had some information for me. And, by the way, he said I should tell the Whiz Kid they're thinking of him."

"Whiz Kid," Charlie chuckled. "When you talk to him, tell him the Whiz Kid said thanks."

Don sat down and looked at his hands for a moment before speaking. "Yeah, I will. Hey, Charlie, Dr. House wants to do some more tests, and he wants you to sign a consent form for an experimental treatment."

"Why?" Larry asked. "Charles is obviously recovering. Why does he need an experimental treatment?"

Don sighed. "House is assuming that this thing was genetically altered, and if it is, there's a chance the bacteria will mutate into resistant forms before they get a chance to kill them all."

"Mutate?" Charlie said, growing pale. "And if that happens?"

"You'll start getting sick again," Don said, looking away from Charlie's gaze.

Charlie closed his eyes and leaned back against his pillow. "God, Don."

"Donnie," Alan snapped, "your brother is finally starting to feel better and you bring this to him? What are you thinking?"

"Dad," Don said, "House is afraid that if this does happen – and there's no way he's sure it will happen – Charlie'll get sick so fast he won't be able to sign a consent for the experimental treatment. Dr. Cameron will be here in a few minutes. She can explain all the details." He put his hand on Charlie's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Buddy."

Charlie shook his head, his eyes still closed, "No, it's okay, Don. I needed to know this." He opened his eyes and looked at Don. "But there's a chance it won't happen, right? I could just keep getting better and be back to normal soon, right?"

"Yeah. In fact, that's what's gonna happen. I'm sure."

Charlie smiled and grasped Don's hand. "Promise?" He grinned when Don hesitated. "At least I know you're telling me the truth."

Don laughed, ruffling Charlie's hair. "The bad news is they're gonna do another colonoscopy today too."

Charlie shrugged. "I don't remember the first one, so I don't mind."

Alan grimaced. "I hope you don't remember this one either, son of mine. It's no fun."

"Great," Charlie muttered. "I was looking forward to having fun on this trip."

Dr. Cameron entered the room, carrying a clipboard and a sheaf of papers. "Hi, I'm sorry to interrupt..."

"That's okay," Charlie said. "Don told me about the experimental treatment and the possibility that the anthrax could mutate."

"Okay," Cameron said. "I hope he also told you that there's still a good chance that the bacteria won't mutate."

"Yes, he did, but he didn't know the probabilities."

Don smiled fondly at his brother. "Charlie's a mathematician. He loves it when you talk numbers to him."

Cameron pursed her lips and said, "Well, unfortunately, I don't have numbers for you. There are too many variables to consider. We don't know what was spliced to the anthrax. All we know is that this isn't the run of the mill anthrax bacteria."

"What is the experimental treatment?" Charlie asked.

"You'll be injected with bacteriophage. They're viruses that specifically target Bacillus anthracis, the anthrax bacteria. They inject their genetic material into the bacteria cells, and reproduce until they explode the host cells. The benefit is that they work against all Bacillus anthracis cells, even those that have been genetically altered and those that have become resistant to antibiotics."

Alan said, "It sounds perfect. There must be a downside."

"They've been tested on animals, but not approved for human testing. Fortunately, there is a doctor here at Princeton who is working with these phage. Dr. House is contacting him now."

"But if it's not approved for human testing, how can you use it on Charlie?" Amita asked.

"Well, we're hoping this request can be fast tracked because of the national security implications. Also, Dr. House is not a stickler for regulations."

"No. I never would have guessed," Alan said sarcastically.

Cameron smiled, "But he gets results." She turned to Charlie. "If we determine that the bacteria is mutating into a resistant form, we won't have a lot of time to initiate treatment, so we're trying to get everything ready just in case. We're still hopeful that it won't mutate."

"Keep telling me that," Charlie said. "What are the side effects of the treatment? Or don't you know because of the lack of testing?"

"In animal tests, no side effects have been encountered. The treatment either works, or it doesn't. If it works, the anthrax is stopped and the patient lives. If it's unsuccessful, the outcome is the same as it would be if there were no treatment."

"Death," Charlie whispered.

Cameron nodded.

"I'll sign. And hope it doesn't come to this." He took the clipboard, read the form quickly and then signed. He handed the clipboard back to Cameron.

"While I'm here, let me check your vitals." When she finished, she smiled, "Well, your temperature is coming down nicely. How are you feeling?"

"A lot better. When can you cut back the pain medication? It's knocking me out."

"I think we can start tapering it off after Dr. Foreman finishes your colonoscopy. He should be here soon." She headed for the door. "Don't hesitate to have the nurse page me if you have any questions at all, okay?"

"Okay," Charlie said. He reached for his cup and took a long drink. He caught Alan and Don staring at him. "What?"

"Are you sure you want to do that bacteriophage treatment, Charlie?"

"What choice do I have? It really didn't sound as if there were too many options available."

"No, that's true." Alan squeezed Charlie's hand. "I just wish you didn't have to make that choice."

"I know. But I did and I have. So let's talk about something else. How was your trip here? Have you seen the inn yet?"

"Our trip was good. I haven't seen the inn, but your brother has."

"It's great, Charlie," Don said. "The owner was really nice. She had someone from the kitchen bring sandwiches and coffee for Amita and me. We brought the leftovers to Larry and Dad. I figured you wouldn't be eating anything yet, otherwise I would have saved you something."

Charlie grinned. "Sure you would." He glanced up at the IV bag. "That's my breakfast, lunch and dinner for a while, I guess."

Agent O'Connell entered the room, looking like he was ready to spit nails. "Agent Eppes," he said. "May I speak with you? In private?"

Don stood slowly, smiling. "Let me guess. Assistant Director Tompkins has been in touch."

Charlie looked up, shocked. "Tompkins? Don, what have you been up to?"

"Just a little investigation. A little computer hacking," he nodded at Charlie's computer. "And the calling in of a few favors. No big deal, Buddy."

"'No big deal,' he says!" O'Connell scoffed. "I just spent the last fifteen minutes being reamed out by Tompkins."

"Well, the big secret is out," Don said. "I've told House. I've told my team. And I was just about to tell these good people what I've discovered. So unless you have more information to give me, I think we can discuss this right here."

O'Connell found a chair and sat. "Go for it, Agent Eppes. I can't wait to hear how you did this."

"Okay," Don turned to Charlie, "I'm sorry I had to go behind your back to get this, but I know you signed that agreement not to discuss your work for the NSA. You're going to have to fix your encryption program."

"Why? What did you do?" Charlie said, raising the head of his bed.

"Not me. Her," Don pointed to Amita. "Of course, I asked her to do it, so don't blame her. Anyway, Megan tracked down your cell phone roaming records and found out you were in Baghdad last week. Amita found an encrypted email that said you and three other consultants were invited to dinner at the home of an Iraqi government official." He bit his lip and said, "One of those consultants is dead, and the other two are in critical condition. The Iraqi official was briefly hospitalized, but he apparently received some kind of treatment that hasn't been made available to us."

"Crap," Charlie breathed. "Who died?"

"I don't remember," Don said.

"Mason," said O'Connell. "Mason died."

Charlie rubbed his face with both hands. "Shit, Don. I thought I was the only one who got sick."

"I know, Buddy. I'm sorry. Were you friends with Mason?"

"Not really. We worked together a couple of times. We got along great. He was a nice guy. He had a wife and two little boys." Charlie stared at O'Connell. "Why wasn't I told about this?"

O'Connell shrugged. "You weren't in any condition..."

"Granted," Charlie said. "But why did you keep this information from the doctors?"

"I didn't have a choice," O'Connell said.

Alan shook his head. "You always have a choice, Agent. You chose to put your orders above Charlie's life."

"You're right, Mr. Eppes. I made the choice to do what I'm hired to do. I know the NSA is trying to find out what treatment Mr. Abu-Hassan received so we can help Charlie and the other two consultants. We did see to it that Charlie is receiving the best possible care. I regret that we didn't find it soon enough to save Dr. Mason. But I don't see how telling you that Charlie was in Baghdad would have made a damn bit of difference."

"Do you have children, Agent O'Connell?" Alan asked softly.

"No."

"When you have kids, you'll understand."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"Don," Charlie said softly, "I'm amazed that you were able to learn all of this so quickly."

"Hey, I do this kind of thing for a living, you know."

"But I'm even more shocked at what you've accomplished, Amita. How long did it take you to hack into my computer?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. An hour?"

Charlie tented his fingers and pressed them to his lips. "Do you know how long it took me to develop that encryption?"

"Well, I did help you with it," Amita said, laughing. "And I do have your main password, which got me past a whole layer of encryption."

"True. But I guess I'm either going to come up with my new encryption by myself or ask Don to get clearance for you so you can read that stuff without being arrested."

"Well," Alan said, "now you have something to occupy your mind while you recuperate."

Charlie smiled and shook his head. "So, Don, do you have any idea who gave us anthrax?"

"According to Colby's sources, it was Ali Abu-Hassan's son."

"Mohammed? He didn't seem like someone who would do something like that."

Don shrugged. "I'm guessing Mohammed wasn't thrilled that Daddy was working with the Americans. Colby's sources are trying to find out everything they can, including how Abu-Hassan was able to get better so quickly."

Foreman and Chase entered the room, pushing the cart with the colonoscopy equipment. "Charlie," Chase said, "I'm afraid we need to do another colonoscopy." He checked Charlie's chart. "Looks like you're on the right level of pain meds. I'll just give you a mild sedative, just like we did last time." He glanced at the group in the room as he injected the sedative into the IV port. "You folks might want to leave us for a half hour or so."

Agent Reid grinned at O'Connell. "Just the right time for the changing of the guard, pal."

Alan said, "I'd like to stay, if it's all right."

Chase shrugged. "It's up to Charlie."

"It's fine with me," he glanced at Amita and blushed. "Amita stayed last time, so I'm guessing it's not an experience she'd care to repeat."

Amita stood, "I think I'll get some breakfast. Anyone else care to visit the cafeteria?"

Larry and Don rose quickly, giving Charlie shamefaced glances. "Sorry, Buddy," Don said. "I think I'd rather spend time with Amita than watch these guys shove that thing up your butt."

"Gee, thanks, Don," Charlie said, laughing. "So, Dad, it looks like it's you and me."

"Oh, no, Charlie," Alan said, nodding at the machine. "It's all you. I'm just here to keep you company."

Charlie felt himself relaxing as the sedative entered his system. He let his eyes close and had almost drifted off to sleep when he heard Dr. Foreman say, "Charlie? I need you to roll onto your left side. Good. Now bring your knees up. That's great. Okay, now just relax."

Charlie muttered, "Easy for you to say."

He heard Foreman chuckle. "Okay, we're starting now. Try to relax. And let me know if anything hurts, okay?"

Charlie nodded and winced as the test began.

In the cafeteria, Don, Amita and Larry were carrying their trays to a table. Don had selected bacon and scrambled eggs, Amita had a fruit salad, and Larry had selected an egg bagel with cream cheese. They each had the largest coffee available. They ate in silence for a few moments, then Larry said, "Don, do you think Charles would mind if I went to some of the seminars today instead of staying with him?"

"I don't see why he would mind, Larry. And I think it would be good for you to get out for a while. Amita, if you want to go, too..."

"No, Don. I don't think I could concentrate right now."

"Maybe you should go back to the inn and get some sleep," Don suggested as he stirred his coffee.

"I slept."

"I mean real sleep, where you're lying down on a bed in a quiet room. Not sitting in a chair in a hospital room where there's always noise and people moving around."

Amita laughed, "You first, Don."

"That's not gonna happen."

Amita shrugged. "Maybe when Charlie's out of danger."

"Now, you two," Larry scolded. "You're not going to do Charles any good if you run yourselves into the ground. You both need some rest. I suggest we take turns. Charles doesn't need all of us there, especially with Alan here."

Don nodded. "You know Dad won't leave Charlie's side unless we drag him out kicking and screaming."

"Perhaps if we set up a shift system," Larry said, "Alan could be convinced to rest.."

They finished their meals, and cleared their table. Don glanced at his watch. "Let's get back. The doctors should be finished by now."

Charlie appeared to be sleeping, but he looked pale and his face showed signs of strain. Don sat next to Alan. "Dad, how'd it go? Charlie doesn't look so good."

"I know. It actually went well. The doctors said the lesions are healing, and there's no sign of new lesions. But Charlie didn't sleep through it this time, and it was pretty uncomfortable, even with the pain meds and sedative." He gently pushed Charlie's curls back away from his face. "Why would anybody do this to him? He's a sweet, gentle man who never hurt anybody in his whole life."

Don shook his head. "It's nothing to do with him as a person, Dad. The guy who gave them the anthrax hated Americans, and he hated his own father for working with the Americans to get rid of Saddam."

"Do you think religion had anything to do with it?" Alan asked.

"No. How would the guy know Charlie's Jewish? It's not like he's obvious about it. And the other guys he poisoned – Hasigawa? Morgan, maybe. Davis? Nah, it's just hatred of anyone who's working against Saddam."

Alan sighed. "I'll never understand that kind of thinking, Donnie."

"Me either, Dad." Don leaned back in his chair and sighed. "You know, Dad, Larry suggested we take turns sitting with Charlie. Larry wants to go to some of the seminar sessions, and all of us could use some sleep."

"I'm okay," Alan said firmly.

"Dad, we're not going to do any good for Charlie if we're falling asleep. Why don't you and Amita go back to the inn for a couple of hours, I'll sit with Charlie, and Larry can go to his meeting? Then when you and Amita come back, I'll get some sleep."

Alan sighed and nodded. "Okay."

"Okay?" Don was shocked. "No argument? Just 'okay'?" He put his palm against Alan's forehead. "No fever."

Alan gave Don a wry grin as he pushed his hand away. "Once in a while you say something that makes sense." He stood and stretched. "Dr. Ramanujan, will you show me the way?"

"Of course," Amita said, standing. She walked to Charlie's side and kissed him on the forehead.

Charlie's eyes opened, and he looked confused for a moment, then smiled. "Hey, Amita."

Alan laughed, "Sleeping Beauty is awakened by a kiss. How are you feeling, Son?"

"Okay. Not great, but better."

"That's good. Listen, Amita's going to show me the way to the inn, and we're going to try to get some rest. Larry's going to the seminar, and Donnie will stay with you until we get back. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure, Dad. That's fine. It has got to be boring sitting around watching me sleep."

Don laughed, "You got that right, Chuck. It's not exactly in the top ten sights to see in the Garden State."

"You obviously haven't spent much time in New Jersey," Charlie grinned. "Dad, Amita, Larry, go. I'll see you later. Maybe I'll be better company by then."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Dr. Michael Adukalil looked up from his monitor, startled by the racket in his doorway. "Yes? May I help you? Ah, Dr. House. How are you today?" Adukalil had always found the American to be abrasive, but incredibly intelligent. He found that he usually enjoyed conversations with the man.

House hobbled into the office and dropped into a chair. "Crappy, same as usual. How are you, Dr. Adukalil?"

"I was doing quite well, thank you, until you showed up. What do you want now?"

House laughed. "Am I that transparent?"

"Oh, yes. You are."

"I have a patient, thirty year old male, he contracted gastrointestinal anthrax while he was in Baghdad, consulting for the NSA."

Adukalil scowled. "Gastrointestinal? That is very unusual. And I take it you're here because the normal treatments are not working."

"Bzzzzz. Wrong. The treatment seems to be working. We've been pouring every antibiotic known to man into the guy and he's getting better. But I believe we're dealing with a genetically altered strain. Besides my patient, four others contracted it. One has died. Two are in critical condition, and the third, an Iraqi official, was treated in Iraq and released. If this thing mutates in my patient, there will be nothing else we can do for him."

Adukalil was nodding. "Except my bacteriophage. But you understand they are not cleared for use on humans. I have applied," he shrugged, "but you know how long government agencies take."

"I am working on getting permission since this may be an issue of national security. The patient has signed all the necessary waivers."

Adukalil pondered for a moment. "On one condition will I give you the bacteriophage. I want all of your data, and I want to be involved in this case from here on in. I will administer the treatment. I will order tests."

"You don't ask much, do you?" House said, smirking.

Adukalil spread his hands in an eloquent shrug. "You need my treatment. I need the data. This will be less controlled than I would like, but beggars cannot be choosers. If I wait for the FDA to approve human testing, I will be a very old man." He caught House's skeptical glance. "Well older than I am now. Who have you contacted to get permission?"

"Nobody yet."

Adukalil dug through his top desk drawer and found a business card. "Here. If you have nobody to contact, try him. He has been helpful before."

House looked at the card and nodded. "National Security Agency. They seem to be turning up all over the place. Assistant Director Robert Tompkins, huh? He a buddy of yours?"

"Not really. They have sent people to us before. Sometimes they need special treatments, not approved by the FDA. I do not believe he is aware of my work with anthrax, otherwise he would have contacted me earlier."

"Thanks, Mike. I'll contact him. How long will it take for you to get the bacteriophage ready for my patient?"

"I have used it on primates. How much more does he weigh than a monkey?"

House chuckled. "You'll have all his records in half an hour." He stood and leaned on his cane.

"All right. As soon as I have the information, I will prepare the dose. We will have your patient right as rain in no time, my friend."

"Oh, sure. Now I'm your friend. Now that I brought you a guinea pig so you can test your magic potion."

"Yes, yes. But do not make me sound like some mad scientist, my friend, or I will be less inclined to save your bacon next time around."

"Oooh, tough guy." House limped from the room.

Charlie had raised the head of his bed, and was sipping ice water. "Hey, Don," he said, "did Amita leave my computer behind?"

"Yep," Don said, reaching for the briefcase. "You feeling up to a game of Minesweeper?"

"I wanted to see how badly Amita trashed my encryption." He pulled the tray table over and raised the head of the bed a little more.

Don put the computer on the tray table and looked around for someplace to plug it in. "Hey, Charlie, do you think they'd freak if I unplugged some of this stuff?"

Charlie grinned. "Try it and see."

"You dare me?" Don held up a handful of cords.

"Sure. Why not?"

"Nah. They'd kick me out and never let me come back again." Don dropped the cords and looked at the baseboard near the head of the bed. "Here we go. There's an empty outlet back here."

As the computer booted, Charlie said, "I still can't believe you and Amita found out about Baghdad so quickly. I guess I'm just not cut out for this cloak and dagger stuff."

"Nah, Charlie, you did everything right. We're just good at what we do. So, listen, don't tell me about what you were working on, but what was Baghdad like?"

Charlie smiled. "Like a war zone. Not that I've been in a war zone before. But it was really amazing. A lot of the damage from the war has been repaired. Businesses are open, and for the most part people are going about pretty routine activities. We weren't really there long enough to see a lot. They kept us pretty busy. But Ali Abu-Hassan's house was in a really upscale neighborhood. He and his wife were such nice people. How is he doing, by the way?"

"As far as we know, he's fine. Did his wife eat with you?"

"No. She served us coffee, but she didn't eat with us. I just assumed it was a cultural thing. You know, the women not hanging out with men they're not related to."

"And his son, Mohammed?"

"Yeah, he ate with us. He seemed like a nice kid. College age, and he seemed excited about the changes taking place in his country. I still can't believe he was the one who poisoned us."

"Colby's sources said he was the one." Don turned to O'Connell. "Mike, do you know anything about this Mohammed kid?"

O'Connell didn't even look up from his book. "Not really. I've been kind of out of the loop babysitting Charlie here."

"How long have you been following Charlie?" Don asked.

"Since he landed in DC."

"But none of us had gotten sick yet. Nobody knew about the anthrax then," Charlie said. "Or did they?"

"Maybe they just wanted to make sure you weren't talking to anybody," Don said. "You don't seem like the kind of person who could keep a secret, you know."

"I've consulted for the NSA long enough that they should know I can keep a secret. And I don't remember ever being followed by NSA agents when I finished a consulting gig before."

Don shrugged. "Maybe the guys who tailed you before were better at it." He glanced at O'Connell, but saw no reaction, other than a slight narrowing of the agent's eyes.

Charlie laid his head back against the pillows and sighed. "Maybe I should just stop consulting for the NSA. I really don't like the way things are going. I don't like being followed and not being able to tell anybody where I've been or what I've been doing. I don't like keeping secrets, Don. Maybe that's why you always assume I can't do it." He closed his eyes.

"You okay, Charlie?"

"Yeah. Just tired. And sore from that colonoscopy."

Don pushed the tray table away and pulled the blankets up to Charlie's chin. "Get some rest, Buddy."


	18. Chapter 18

Author's note: Here's the link to Chapter 17: 18

House limped into Charlie's room and looked from Charlie, who was sound asleep, to Don who was playing games on Charlie's computer, to Agent O'Connell, who looked up when he entered. "Agent," he said to O'Connell, "I need your help."

"With what?" O"Connell asked warily.

"I need some strings pulled. Your agency got my patient into this situation, and I need your agency to help get him out of it." He handed Robert Tompkins' card to O'Connell. "I was told I could contact this guy to grease the wheels of the bureaucracy. You work for these bozos. Is he the one I should call, or is there someone else?"

O'Connell's eyes widened as he looked at the card. "He's the one you should call. Charlie has worked for him before. And he's high enough in the organization, he can give you the authorization you need. Who gave you this?" He handed the card back to House.

"That's for me to know and you to find out. See, two can play this top secret game," House turned and started to leave. Almost as an afterthought, he walked to Charlie's side and looked at the monitors. Turning to Don, he said, "He been sleeping long?"

Don glanced at his watch. "Half hour or so. He worked on his computer and talked for a while, but then he said he was tired and sore from the colonoscopy."

House looked around for a thermometer, then shrugged and put his palm against Charlie's forehead. "Crap," he muttered, limping from the room.

"Wait," Don called, "what's wrong?"

"Fever's back," House answered without stopping. "I've got a call to make."

When House was gone, Don said to O'Connell, "Who's he calling?"

"Tompkins."

Don sighed. "First time I knew Charlie had consulted for the NSA, he said that Bob Tompkins had called him. I couldn't believe he was calling Assistant Director Tompkins by his first name."

O'Connell smiled. "I'll bet that freaked you out."

"Yeah, it did. We were trying to stop an epidemic, and Charlie was doing the vector analysis. I couldn't believe he had clearance at the national security level."

"He must be good at what he does. He does some pretty high level stuff for the NSA."

"Yeah. He's incredible. He can look at just about any situation and figure out some mathematical whatchamacallit to solve it."

"Is he always right?"

"Not always. If he doesn't get it the first time, he normally makes adjustments and figures it out the second or third time. But my solve rate has really gone up since he started consulting for us. I wonder what calculations he'd come up with for this case."

"Amita," Alan said as they walked up the front steps of the Peacock Inn, "I didn't realize Charlie managed to get reservations here. He must have booked this months ago."

"Yes, he did. He really wanted to show Larry and me the best of Princeton. I understand there are only seventeen rooms, and they're sometimes booked a year in advance."

"We tried to get reservations for some relatives when Charlie was in school here, but it was booked solid."

They stopped at the front desk, and Amita introduced Alan to Ms. Lindsay. She stood and took his hand. "Mr. Eppes, I was so sorry to hear about Dr. Eppes. How's he doing?"

"Better, and please, call me Alan."

"All right, Alan. And as I told Don, please let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Thank you."

Amita showed Alan to Charlie's room. When he opened the door, Alan smiled. "Very nice. My boy's got good taste." He checked his watch. "What do you think? An hour?"

Amita sighed. "Two?"

"Two it is." He stopped, taking Amita's hand in both of his. "He will be all right. He's a fighter, and everybody keeps telling me he's got a great doctor."

Amita smiled and squeezed Alan's hand. "I know. Thanks, Alan. I'll see you in two hours. My place or yours?"

"Well, since I don't know where your place is, how about we meet here?"

House dropped into his chair, lifted his right leg to rest on the desk and picked up the phone. He was surprised when the man himself answered the phone. "Tompkins."

"Ah, Mr. Tompkins. Greg House here. I assume you know who I am because your agency dropped Charles Eppes and his weapon of mass destruction anthrax in my lap yesterday. And then, surprise, surprise, I learn just today that Dr. Adukakil, who is working on an experimental treatment for anthrax here in Princeton just happens to have your business card in his desk."

"Dr. House. We assumed you would be able to diagnose and treat Dr. Eppes. I didn't know you'd be into conspiracy theories."

"Damn. I figured you wanted to know about the black helicopters I've been seeing. I need Dr. Adukalil's treatment for your man, and it hasn't been approved for human testing. Save us all a lot of time we don't have and tell me you can snap your fingers and get approval so Dr. Adukakil,who seems to have scruples, will give my patient his magic formula."

"Don't you ever stop to breathe?"

House snorted. "Not when I have a patient who thinks antibiotics are doing the trick, but whose temperature is going back up. I am guessing that within the next few hours, Dr. Eppes will start having symptoms again. Once that starts, I'll need to begin treatment immediately. So, can you snap your fingers, Assistant Director Tompkins, or will you forward this call to your boss?"

"Give me half an hour. Can I reach you at this number?"

"Ah, the wonders of caller I.D. Yeah, call me here." House hung up and picked up the giant pink tennis ball from his desk. He looked up to see Cameron standing in the doorway. "Now what?"

"How'd you know Charlie's temperature is going up?" She asked.

"You were eavesdropping, Cameron!" House held up his hand, showing Cameron his palm. "Mom's patented thermometer told me so."

"You visited a patient again? What is this world coming to?"

"Hey, he's a fed. Your tax dollars are being wasted on some guy lying in a hospital bed. Or is it laying? I can never remember."

"So who were you talking to?"

"A fairy godmother who's going to grant my wishes?" House grinned at Cameron's scowl. "A high ranking fed who's going to see if he can give Dr. Adukalil permission to use his bacteriophage on a human guinea pig."

"So what do we do now?"

House pointed at the phone. "We wait for that to ring, and hope it's good news."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Charlie stirred and opened his eyes. "Hey, Don," he whispered.

"Charlie! Buddy! How are you feeling?" Don put the computer aside and put his hand on Charlie's forehead. "Still warm."

"Warm? Nah. It's cold in here," Charlie tried to find more covers. He stopped and stared at his brother. "It's not coming back, is it? The anthrax?"

Don bit his lips, shaking his head. "Nah. It can't be. You're getting better. Aren't you?"

Charlie shrugged. "I thought I was. But now I'm not feeling so great."

"Well, House is getting permission to use that experimental treatment on you. It sounds good: a virus that attacks the anthrax."

"Well, let's hope that's all it attacks." Charlie grinned at Don's shocked expression. "I wouldn't want to end up with a third eye."

"Or no hair!" Don chuckled.

Charlie clamped both hands over his curls. "Maybe I shouldn't have signed that consent form."

"Charles!" Larry rushed into the room, to his friend's side. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Larry. I was just horribilizing," Charlie smiled.

"'Horribilizing?'" Larry said, "Is that anything like 'Fleinhardting?'"

"Similar. How was the seminar?"

"Oh, excellent, Charles. I took the liberty of ordering the DVD set for you. Mercifully, they decided not to include your truncated presentation."

"That's good. I'm sure I wouldn't want to see that. So, who presented today?"

Larry smiled. "Your friend Marshall Penfield. His presentation was very interesting. His work on set theory is ..."

"Did he say anything about me or my work?"

"Charles, Charles, Charles. Do you believe the whole world revolves around you and your work?"

Charlie chuckled. "No, but sometimes it seems like Marshall's whole world does."

"Well, not today. He did approach me afterwards and inquired about your health. He is worried about you, Charles."

"Well, that's good to hear."

"How are you doing?"

Charlie sighed. "I'm not feeling very well, Larry. I'm afraid the anthrax is coming back."

"Mutating? Oh, Charles."

"Well, there is Dr. House's bacteriophage treatment."

"Yeah," Don said, grinning, "but Chuck here is afraid it'll make his hair fall out."

"Has it had that effect on the laboratory animals?" Larry said, his brow furrowing.

"Nah," Charlie said, punching his brother in the arm. "Don doesn't think I have enough to worry about. He's been taking advantage of my weakened state. Planting bizarre fears in my head. If Dad was here, he'd put a stop to it. By the way, I'm glad you talked him into getting some rest, Don. You're next, right?"

Don shrugged. "We'll see, Buddy. I stay where I'm needed."

"That you do, Big Brother" Charlie said, leaning back against the pillows. "That you do. But you do need your rest, too." He glanced at his computer. "You playing games or fixing my encryption?"

"I don't think you'd want me anywhere near your encryption. Unless you want your password to be your birthday."

"That's okay. I'll work on it later. Larry, I'm sorry you're missing so much of the conference."

"Oh, Charles, don't worry about it."

The men all looked up as Dr. Cameron entered the room. She smiled and said, "Hello," but her smile didn't reach all the way to her eyes. "How are you feeling, Charlie?" she asked as she pulled out her thermometer and stuck it in his ear.

Charlie sighed. "Not very well, to be honest. I'm starting to feel nauseated again, and I think the fever's back."

Cameron glanced at the thermometer and nodded. "It is."

Don asked, "Any word on the approval for the bacteriophage treatment yet?" 

"Not yet. The NSA hasn't gotten back to House, so he's calling them again. He wanted me to check Charlie's vitals first." She made a few notations in the file. "I'll let you know as soon as we hear anything. Charlie, you have the nurse beep me if you start feeling worse. We need to put as much pressure on the NSA as possible."

"Who's House calling at the NSA?" Charlie asked.

"Your buddy, Tompkins," Don said. "He should be anxious to help, shouldn't he?"

"I would hope so," Charlie said. "I don't think I ticked him off."

Cameron smiled at Charlie. "I can't imagine you ticking anyone off." She turned and left the room.

"Oooh, Charlie," Don said. "I think the doctor likes you."

"Don't tell Amita," Charlie said, grinning.

"Why not, Buddy. If she knows another hot woman is after you ..."

Cameron dropped the folder on House's desk. "His temp is back up, and he's started to feel nauseated again."

House dialed. When Tompkins picked up, House said, "You haven't called me yet, and it's been over half an hour."

"I'm sorry, Dr. House, but this is not the only thing I have to deal with today."

"The anthrax is starting to mutate. You'd better move this up on your to-do list."

"You say this is Dr. Adukalil's treatment? How did his tests go so far?"

"You'll have to ask him that. All I know is that my patient is getting sick, and will keep getting worse until ..."

"Transfer me to Adukalil."

House smiled and pressed a few buttons. "Mike. House. I have Mr. Robert Tompkins of the NSA on the phone for you. He has a few questions about your anthrax treatment."

"Put him on. How's the patient?"

House pushed buttons again. "Tompkins? Adukalil? We're all on the party line now. Mike, the patient's fever has started going up again, and he's feeling nauseated. Tompkins, you can ask Dr. Adukalil your questions."

Tompkins started, "Dr. Adukalil, what results have you had with your animal tests?"

"It's been eighty percent effective on mice. Seventy two percent effective on primates."

"Side effects?"

"None noted."

Tompkins was silent for a few long moments. House was about to say something when Tompkins said, "All right. Give him your treatment. I'll fax you the necessary paperwork. House, can you at least wait to get the fax?"

"How long?"

"Fifteen minutes."

"I'll wait fifteen minutes. No longer. Thank you, Mr. Tompkins."

"Tell Charlie I send him my best wishes, will you?"

Adukalil said, "I'm sure House will not, but I will. And thank you, Director. I will send you my file on Dr. Eppes when we are finished, if you'd like."

"I'd appreciate that, Dr. Adukalil."

"Mike?" House said, "Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?"

"Yes, Greg, I will be ready. I will meet you in Dr. Eppes' room in fifteen minutes."

As House hung up, his beeper went off, followed almost immediately by Cameron's beeper. They both looked at the display and headed to Charlie's room.

Charlie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He rubbed his stomach and grimaced. "Charlie?" Don said, leaning forward. "You okay?"

Charlie gasped and opened his eyes. "No. I think I'm gonna be sick."

Don looked around for something, anything, for Charlie to throw up in. He grabbed the wastebasket and brought it up just in time.

Larry looked perplexed, "But he hasn't had anything to eat."

Charlie slumped back onto the pillows, gasping. Don winced as he looked into the wastebasket. "It's blood, Larry." He put the wastebasket down, and pushed the nurse call button, then touched Charlie's cheek. "Hang in there, Buddy."

Charlie rolled onto his left side, curled up and moaned, "Don... "

"It's okay. I'm here. The nurse is coming." The nurse hurried into the room, and Don got up to get out of the way. He looked at Charlie's bed. "Oh, God. There's blood where he was lying."

Two more nurses entered the room, and Don joined Larry and Agent O'Connell near the wall. They heard one of the nurses say, "I've paged House and Cameron."

Charlie groaned loudly as the nurses rolled him onto his back. Don couldn't see his face, but he could see him struggling against the nurses and hear his gasps. He bit his lips and fought the urge to push the nurses out of the way. He jumped as Larry grasped his arm. "Geez, Larry," he said angrily.

"I'm sorry, Don. I was afraid you were going to try to help. It's perfectly understandable, but not advisable."

"You guessed right, Larry." Don smiled briefly. His smile faded as he heard Charlie murmuring his name. "I'm here, Buddy. Let the nurses do their job."

Don heard House's voice and glanced toward the door. House said, "Page Dr. Adukalil. Tell him screw the fax, bring his stuff down here now."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Don fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone. Without taking his eyes off his brother, he took a step toward the door. Larry stopped him. "Don, let me call Alan. You stay here with Charles."

"Thanks, Larry," Don murmured. Numbly, he flipped open the cell phone and said, "Press this key, then scroll down like this until 'Dad – cell' is highlighted. Like this. Then press this key. When you're done, close the phone. That's all there is to it."

Larry smiled and took the phone. "I may hate what cell phones represent, Don, but right now I am so very glad that you and your father both have them. I'll be right back."

"Thank you, Larry." From his new position, Don could see Charlie's face. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was panting, but at least he had stopped fighting the nurses. Don heard House ordering morphine and platelets. He hoped for Charlie's sake the morphine would take effect fast.

Dr. Cameron looked up and saw Don. She crossed the room and stepped in front of him. She realized he probably didn't even notice her until she had blocked his view of his brother. He blinked and finally met her gaze. "Don, we're going to start the bacteriophage treatment as soon as Dr. Adukalil gets here. Meanwhile, we're starting Charlie on morphine for the pain. And Dr. House has ordered platelets. That will help his blood to clot and hopefully stop the bleeding. If necessary, he'll order a unit of whole blood later, but we're hoping that won't be necessary." How much of what she said was he processing? She put her hand on his shoulder. "He'll be fine. He'll be out of pain in a few minutes." She took his arm and led him to a place near Charlie's head. "Talk to him, calm him down. You won't be in the way here for now, but you're going to have to move if we tell you, okay?"

Don nodded as he touched Charlie's face. "Okay. Thank you, Dr. Cameron. Hey, Buddy, it's gonna be okay. They're getting you something for the pain. Hang in there, okay?"

Charlie reached up and grasped Don's hand. "Donnie? It hurts..."

"I know, Buddy. They're taking care of that now. Hey, here's the morphine now. They'll have you feeling better in a minute."

Charlie groaned and squeezed Don's hand until he thought his fingers would break. Charlie's eyes opened and he tried to smile. "That's ... that's good... Gotta love morphine..."

Don blinked back tears. "Hey, Buddy, you're not supposed to be cheering me up."

"Somebody's... gotta do it..."

The tears overflowed, and Don chuckled. "Well, if anybody can do it, you can. Just try to relax now."

Charlie closed his eyes and murmured. "Remember ... the last time... someone told me to relax..."

Don smiled. "No, Buddy, not another colonoscopy."

Charlie smiled. "Thank God ... for that..."

Don could feel Charlie's fingers starting to loosen their deathgrip on his hand. He squeezed his little brother's hand. With his other hand, he brushed Charlie's hair back from his forehead. The skin was hot to the touch. Charlie moved his head ever so slightly towards Don's touch. "It's gonna be okay, Buddy," Don murmured.

In the waiting area, Larry dialed Alan's number and then held the tiny instrument to his ear. Alan's groggy voice answered on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

"Alan, this is Larry. Fleinhardt."

"Larry? What's wrong? Is Charlie...?"

"Charles has suffered a setback. Dr. House is getting ready to start the bacteriophage treatment."

"A setback? What happened?"

"It appears the anthrax has mutated. Charles is in a great deal of pain, and he's bleeding internally. The doctors are with him now..."

"Oh, God, Larry. I'll be there as soon as I can. Do you know which room Amita is in? I have to get her, too."

Larry thought for a moment, "Let me see. The room she's in is called The Swain. They have names, of course, not numbers. If you turn left when you go out your door, her door is the third, or is it the fourth? On the same side as yours. The nameplate is next to the door. It should say 'The Swain.'"

"Thank you, Larry. We'll be there as soon as we can. Tell Don..."

"I will, Alan. But, do be careful on the way over here. Charles is in good hands."

"I know. See you in a few minutes." Alan hung up, and Larry flipped Don's phone shut and headed back to Charlie's room.

Alan was glad he had fallen into bed without changing. He made a quick stop in the bathroom, then threw some water on his face, and went in search of Amita's room. Larry had been close. Amita's room was next door to his. He knocked gently at first, then a little louder, until he heard movement inside. "Amita? It's Alan."

He heard Amita fumbling with the lock, then she opened the door. She stood there, blinking in confusion. "Alan? What's wrong? Is it Charlie?"

He nodded. "Yes. Larry just called me. Charlie's taken a turn for the worse."

"Oh, God, Alan," Amita grabbed her purse, made sure her key was in it and said, "Let's go."

Ms. Lindsay looked up from her work at the desk as they crossed the lobby. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm afraid not," Alan said. "Charlie's gotten worse..."

"Hold on," Ms. Lindsay stood. "I'll drive you over. It'll be faster." Before Alan could object, Ms. Lindsay had her purse, and was heading toward them. "Mary Sue, will you watch the desk for me?" She called as she led them out the front door. "My car's around back."

Once they were in the car, she said, "He's at Princeton Plainsboro?"

"Yes," Alan said, "But you really don't have to..."

"Too late," Ms. Lindsay said. "I wasn't kidding when I told you to tell me if there was anything I could do to help." They pulled out of the parking lot, and she fumbled in her purse. "Here's my card. You call me if you want a ride back here. Please don't hesitate. I want to help, and I can't if you don't let me."

As they pulled into the circle in front of the hospital, she said, "I'll be praying for Dr. Eppes, and for you."

"Thank you," Alan said as he opened the car door. "I appreciate your prayers, Ms. Lindsay. And thank you for the ride."

When they arrived, Charlie's room was a hive of activity. Larry and the NSA agent stood out of the way, against the wall. Don looked up from where he stood at Charlie's side. He turned and said something to Charlie, then hurried over to Alan and Amita. "They've given him the first injection of the bacteriophage. He's sleeping now. Morphine," he said as he ushered them to the place he had vacated. He stepped back and let Alan and Amita stand next to Charlie.

Alan looked down at Charlie's pale, peaceful face. Tears sprang to his eyes as he brushed his fingertips against his son's cheek. "My baby boy," he murmured. He heard Amita's choked sob, and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. "I should have been here for you, Son." He looked up, and saw Dr. Cameron on the other side of the bed, checking Charlie's vitals.

Dr. Cameron smiled encouragingly at him. "Don was with him. He's resting comfortably now, and we're just waiting for the bacteriophage to do their work."

"How long will it take?" Alan asked.

"Hard to say," Cameron said. "He's the first human they've used it on. In vitro, it works within fifteen minutes. The literature I've read mentions results in mice within a few hours. Dr. Adukalil has used it on primates. I can check with him, if you'd like. I believe he's with Dr. House now."

"That's all right," Alan said.

"Okay," Dr. Cameron said, "I'm going to take these results to Dr. House. I'll be back in a little while. We'll be checking on Charlie every few minutes, but if you notice anything at all, have the nurses page me."

"Thank you again, Dr. Cameron," Alan said.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

House sat with his leg up on the desk. Dr. Adukalil sat across from him. Both men looked up when Cameron entered. "How's he doing?" House asked.

"Temperature is about the same. The morphine kicked in. His dad and girlfriend are back. No change yet in his vitals. Dr. Adukalil, Charlie's dad was wondering how long it would take for the bacteriophage to work. Do you have any estimate?"

Adukalil shrugged. "I really don't know. It took several hours in the primates. Some of the bacteria appeared to respond quickly, perhaps within a few minutes. Others took days. The way these bacteria are mutating, it's hard to say. I would expect to see improvement in two or three hours."

"Thanks. I'll let him know."

"Why don't I come down and talk to the family?" Dr. Adukalil suggested. "I'm afraid I did not say two words to his brother when I was in there before. I was too interested in the treatment."

House grumbled, "Talking to families is way overrated. Cameron, why don't you, Chase and Foreman take turns checking on the patient. Draw blood every half hour. Do a CBC so we can monitor the bleeding. Mike, how often do you want blood?"

"Every half hour is good. That way I can keep an eye on the antibodies. I will do cultures, too, but the antibodies will give us better information more quickly."

"All right, little minion. Off you go. And be ready to pack him full of platelets, and have some units of whole blood on hold for him. He might keep bleeding even after the bacteriophage start working."

The nurses and doctors had left, and now Alan, Don, Amita, Larry and Agent O'Connell were the only ones left with Charlie. Agent O'Connell sat in his chair and went back to reading his book, but the others were reluctant to leave Charlie's side. Don brought over two chairs, and offered one to his father and the other to Amita. Amita sat and took Charlie's limp left hand in her hand. He didn't even stir.

Alan murmured his thanks to Don and sat, gently brushing Charlie's hair with his fingertips. "What happened today, Don?" He asked softly.

"We were talking. I was kidding him about Dr. Cameron liking him."

"What?" Amita said, glaring at Don.

"Oh, she smiled at him, and I was kidding him. Don't worry. It was nothing. But afterwards, he looked tired and he closed his eyes, so I figured he was just going to go back to sleep. Then he started rubbing his stomach, and he looked like he was in pain. He said he thought he was going to be sick. Then he threw up, and it looked like it was all blood. He was curled up, holding his stomach. But you know what he did? As bad as he was feeling, he tried to cheer me up."

"That sounds like Charlie," Alan said as he smiled down at his younger son.

"You want to hear something crazy, Dad?"

"What's that, Donnie?"

"I'm glad this didn't happen while he was working on something for me. That's selfish, isn't it?"

"No, Donnie, it's perfectly natural. You don't want to be the cause of your brother's pain. There's nothing wrong with that."

"That's good," Don said, "Now I guess my next issue is wanting to do grave bodily harm to whoever was the cause of Charlie's pain."

Alan chuckled. "As the great philosopher, Mr. T. said, 'I pity the fool.'"

"I hate to interrupt," Larry said, "but, Don, are you proposing to find out who gave Charlie anthrax?"

"Colby says they know who did it: Ali Abu-Hassan's son, Mohammed," Don said.

"But you're not certain?" Larry asked.

"Well, Charlie didn't think Mohammed would do it. He said Mohammed was embracing the modernization of Iraq."

Amita said, "Could he have been faking it? Pretending to support the new government so he wouldn't arouse suspicion?"

"He could," Don said. "When Charlie wakes up, I'd like to talk to him more about it." Don glanced over at Agent O'Connell. "Don't worry, I won't discuss any secret stuff with him. And, anyway, it's a little out of my jurisdiction."

Larry shook his head, "No, Don, I don't believe that anything involving your family is outside of your jurisdiction."

Amita gasped. "Charlie? He just squeezed my hand."

Charlie turned toward the sound of her voice, "Amita?" he murmured.

"Welcome back," Amita said, touching Charlie's cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Mmmkay. Sleepy."

"Are you in any pain? We can call the nurse."

"Nope. No pain." He opened his eyes, and appeared to be focusing someplace over Amita's left shoulder. He suddenly giggled.

"What?" Alan asked. "Charlie, what's so funny?"

"The horses, and the little soldiers riding them," Charlie said, chuckling. "They're funny."

"Where?" Don said, trying to follow Charlie's gaze.

"Over there. On the window sill." Charlie pointed toward the blank wall behind Amita. "They're silly."

"I think we'd better call the nurse," Don said, pressing the call button.

"No!" Charlie shook his head and tried to sit up. "She'll scare them all away."

Alan held Charlie down. "No, Son, we won't let her scare them away. Just relax."

The nurse entered quietly. "Well, it looks like our patient is waking up."

Charlie put his finger to his lips. "Shhhh. Don't scare the horses."

The nurse leaned toward him and whispered. "I won't. How are you feeling?"

"Okey dokey," Charlie said, grinning. "I like the horses."

"Okay. Why don't I take your vitals while I'm here. I'll be quiet so I don't scare the horses."

Charlie nodded and made a soft shushing sound as he fell back asleep.

The nurse whispered, "Don't worry. That was from the morphine. It's not uncommon to have hallucinations under morphine."

"That's a relief," Don said. "I was afraid he was going nuts."

The nurse took Charlie's temperature and made note of the readings on the machines that were monitoring his condition. "Good news," she whispered, "his temperature is going down."

"Thank you," Alan whispered.

"No problem," the nurse said, smiling. "Don't hesitate to call us if you have any questions about what's going on, okay? I'm sure this is all strange for you."

"You got that right," Don said. "Horses."

The nurse laughed. "You should hear some of the things my patients have seen."

Dr. Cameron entered the room and said, "How's he doing?"

The nurse looked up, smiling, "Fever's down, BP is staying the same. And he was awake for a minute or two."

"Any pain?"

"No. He was seeing little horses with soldiers riding them," the nurse said. "But he said there was no pain."

"That's good. House wants us to take blood and vitals every half hour," Cameron said, tying a rubber tourniquet around Charlie's arm, just above the elbow. She pulled a Vacutainer and a spare tube from her pocket and put them on the table. She pressed on the veins in the crook of Charlie's elbow, then, finding a satisfactory vein, she popped the cover off the needle and pushed it gently into the vein. After she filled the two tubes, covered the puncture with gauze and disposed of the needle, she said, "Oh, Mr. Eppes, I almost forgot. I checked with Dr. Adukalil, and he said he'd expect to see results in two or three hours. It varies a lot, so don't be discouraged if it takes longer."

"That's good to hear," Alan said, "And it sounds like he's getting better already."

"This is encouraging," Cameron said. "His temperature going down and his blood pressure staying the same are both good signs." She held up the vials, "And we're going to check these for red and white blood cells and platelets. That'll tell us the progress of the infection and the internal bleeding. Dr. Adukakil will check for antibodies. That'll tell us if the body is fighting the bacteria."

"And you're doing this every half hour?" Amita asked.

"Yes," Cameron said, "We have platelets and whole blood on hand in case we need them. Dr. Hosue believes the bleeding might continue for a while even after the bacteriophage begin to work. And when we can, we'll start cutting back on the morphine."

Don snickered, "But won't that scare the silly horses away?"

Cameron laughed, "Ah, with Charlie, the morphine makes him see horses, right? I had a patient who saw topless nurses riding wolverines."

"Hmm," Larry said, "I wonder what triggers the hallucinations. But even more interesting would be why one person sees horses and another sees wolverines."

"Well," Alan said, "Charlie is studying the math of the brain. Maybe he can come up with an algorithm to answer your questions, Larry."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

After Dr. Cameron left, Larry and Don brought chairs over to Charlie's bedside and sat. Alan sighed. "Now we wait."

Don put his hand on Alan's shoulder. "Now we wait. At least his fever's going down. That's gotta be a sign that the infection is going away, right?"

Alan smiled, "Yes, you're right." He ran his fingers through Charlie's curls. "He feels cooler. Why would someone do this to him, Donnie?"

"Well, the theory is that Mohammed Abu-Hassan was protesting the US involvement in his country."

"So he gave his father and four American consultants a dose of anthrax? That doesn't make any sense," Alan said. "I would think he'd look for a more impressive target."

"I'm telling Charlie you don't think he's impressive," Don said, grinning.

"I'm being serious, Don. If he were trying to drive the Americans out of Iraq, why not use the anthrax in a more public way? Is it possible there was some other motive?"

"I suppose anything is possible. I wasn't really trying to figure out why this was done. I just wanted to find out anything I could about the anthrax itself. The goal was to help Charlie, not solve a crime."

"I know," Alan said, "but don't tell that you aren't even a little bit curious now that Charlie's getting better."

"Okay, I am curious. But why are you so curious, Dad?"

"Well, we're not as different as you might think, Donnie. You're not the only one who wants to do grave bodily harm to whoever did this to Charlie. And we've got to figure out who he or she is before we can exact our pound of flesh."

"Ah," Larry said, "'Shylock from The Merchant of Venice.'"

"Admittedly not a very admirable role model," Alan said softly.

"A father who was pushed to extremes to protect his family," Larry said, shrugging. "But I am presuming that you not speaking of an actual pound of actual flesh, but rather speaking metaphorically of exacting justice."

Alan sighed, "Well it is fun to fantasize, but, yes, I was speaking metaphorically." Charlie stirred and moaned. "Charlie? Son? Are you okay?"

"Dad?"Charlie murmured, rubbing his stomach.

"Right here. You need anything?"

Charlie shook his head. "Not really. Just wanted to make sure it was really you. Not some hallucination."

Alan smiled, "It's really me, Son."

Don grinned, "And we're not even riding horses, Chuck."

"Horses?" Charlie asked, opening his eyes and looking around. "What horses?"

"Don, stop it," Alan said. "Charlie, your brother thinks it's fun to tease you. You were hallucinating horses and soldiers before."

Charlie grinned, "You're kidding me, right?" He closed his eyes and rubbed his stomach again.

"You okay?" Don asked.

"Hmm? Yeah. Just a little queasy." He opened his eyes again. "The bacteriophage? Did they...?"

"Yeah," Don said. "And your temperature is going down. That's a great sign, Buddy."

"Can we get you anything?" Alan asked.

Charlie shook his head. "No." He gulped. "I think I'm gonna be sick again."

Don pushed the call button for the nurse while Alan helped Charlie roll onto his side and picked up the wastebasket.

Chase dragged himself into the office, and poured himself a cup of coffee. Cameron was running the CBC, and Foreman was already nursing a cup of coffee. Chase muttered, "Why did House drag us back in here? He need new victims to torture?"

Cameron looked up from her work. "He gave Charlie the bacteriophage about half an hour ago. We need to monitor his condition, run CBCs every half hour, and take blood to Dr. Adukalil so he can test for antibodies and do cultures. So, yeah, he needed two more victims to torture."

"He used the bacteriophage?" Chase asked, amazed. "I hope he got permission."

Cameron shrugged. "He said he did. And the anthrax started to mutate while you two were catching up on your beauty sleep. There was nothing else he could do."

"Dare I ask where he is?"

"Probably still with Dr. Adkalil. He was there when I brought him the blood."

"Okay, what do you need us to do now?"

Cameron checked her watch. "Finish your coffee and take the next blood sample."

Chase entered the room. Unlike House, he liked it when patients' families and friends were involved. And Charlie Eppes had family and friends who obviously cared about him. "Excuse me," he said, "It's time for another blood test."

"It's been half an hour already?" Alan asked.

"Yes, it has. How's he doing?" Chase put the vacutainer and tubes on the table.

"He threw up blood again a few minutes ago. But until that, he seemed better," Alan said, moving aside to make room for the doctor to work.

"It'll take time for the bleeding to stop," Chase said. "But I can give him something for the nausea if it doesn't get better soon."

"That would be good," Alan said. "It really seemed to hurt. He was exhausted afterwards."

"All right. I'll tell the nurse on my way out.."

"Thank you, Doctor. How's everything look?"

"Dr. Cameron said his fever's down and his BP is still up. The blood pressure would go down if he were hemorrhaging. If the bleeding keeps up, we may have to give him some more platelets to improve the clotting." He found a good vein and filled two tubes with blood, then bandaged the puncture wound and untied the tourniquet. Charlie slept through the whole process.

"He's going to look like a pincushion," Alan said.

Chase grinned. "Yeah, hopefully we won't have to do this too much longer." He checked Charlie's temperature. "Very good. It's still going down. It's almost normal."

"How was the last blood test? The one Dr. Cameron ran?" Don asked.

"I dunno. She was finishing the tests when I left to come down here. I'll ask her to come and talk to you when she's done, okay?"

"That's not necessary..." Alan started.

"I know," Chase said, "but I know if it was someone I loved lying here, I'd want to know. And knowing Cameron, she'd feel the same way. I'll see you later."

Cameron had finished the test when Chase returned. "How's it look?" He asked.

"Not bad, all things considered. White blood cells are up a little, red are down. But that's to be expected. The key is going to be what the next few CBCs show us."

"I told his father you could come down and let them know the results," Chase said softly. "They're such nice people."

"Yeah, they are," Cameron said, "Okay, you run the next one, and I'll go talk to House, and then go see the family."

House was twirling his cane like a drum major's baton as Adukalil was looking at Charlie's blood under the microscope. "How's it look?"

"It's early days, yet. I wouldn't expect to see changes in the antibodies this quickly."

Cameron knocked on the door and entered. "I figured you'd be here," she said, handing Hosue the results of the CBC.

He looked at the page, then tossed it on Adukalil's desk. "Nothing here either yet. I know, I know, it's early days. How's his temp and BP?"

"Temp's down. BP unchanged."

"Well, that's encouraging, anyway. Did you manage to find Chase and Foreman and get them to drag their sorry butts in here?"

Cameron grinned. "Yeah, and after another gallon of coffee, they should be human."

House leaned towards Cameron. "And yet, you keep on going, just like the Energizer Bunny. What is it, Cameron? An overdose of perkiness?"

"I don't know. You're still going and going and going. And I know it's not perkiness in your case," she turned to leave. "I'm going to go talk to Charlie's family."

"I don't believe it. She's perky and she talks to families. Mike, when are we going to break her of these filthy habits?"


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Charlie was awake when Cameron entered. She was glad to see that he was actually sitting up and looking much better than she'd last seen him. "Hi," she said, smiling. "It's nice to see you awake, Charlie. How are you feeling?"

"Better. Still not 100, but better."

"He feels a lot cooler," Amita said, holding Charlie's hand and touching his cheek.

Cameron noticed the possessiveness of Amita's gesture. Could she possibly be jealous? She decided to defuse the situation, "I'm so glad Charlie is surrounded by people who really love him."

Charlie apparently picked up on the signals – not bad for a sick man – and squeezed Amita's hand. "I'm very lucky," he murmured. He turned back to Cameron and said, "I understand you gave me the bacteriophage already."

"Yes, almost an hour ago. I just took your first blood test results up to Dr. House. We weren't expecting much so soon after the injection, but they were encouraging. Dr. Chase is running the second sample now, and Dr. Foreman will be down to take the third in a few minutes."

"What are you expecting to see?" Charlie asked.

"We're hoping to see your red blood cell count go up, and your white blood cell count go down. We're also hoping that your temperature keeps going down, and your blood pressure goes back up. Dr. Adukalil is checking to see if the bacteriophage are starting to affect the anthrax bacteria."

"I'm feeling better," Charlie said hopefully.

"That's good," Cameron said, taking his temperature. "But we tend to pay more attention to the numbers than to the feelings." She stopped, surprised at the laughter in the room. "What?"

"Well," Don said, "Charlie here is a math professor, and he's normally all about the numbers. The anthrax must have addled his brain."

"Hey," Charlie said, "everything's numbers, but in this case, those numbers translate into feelings, too. I was just providing additional data for the doctor.".

"Actually, you're right, Charlie," Dr. Cameron said. "For example, you're feeling better, and your temperature is down to 100.2. When your red blood cell count gets back to normal, you'll have more energy."

"See," Charlie said to Don, "so the feelings do make a difference."

"All right, I'll leave you to it," Cameron said, "I've got to get back to work. Unless you have any more questions?"

"Not I," Charlie said, as everyone else shook their heads. "But thank you for your explanations."

After Dr. Cameron left, Alan said, "You know, Charlie, while you were sleeping earlier, we were talking about Mohammed Abu-Hassan."

"Really?" Charlie said. "What conclusion did you come to?"

"No conclusions," Don said. "Just questions. We were hoping you could tell us more about why you didn't think he did it."

Charlie rubbed his face as he pondered. "Well, he seemed to enjoy being with us, speaking English, discussing the improvements in his country. We didn't spend much time with Iraqi civilians, but there were some who seemed resentful of us. I definitely didn't get that feeling with Mohammed."

"Feelings again, Charlie?" Don chuckled.

"Come on, Don," Charlie said angrily, "I am just giving you my impressions. I'm sorry I don't have any hard data for you."

"Charlie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." 

Charlie waved his hand. "It's okay." He sighed. "I'm just tired of being sick."

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Alan said. "We can discuss this when you're feeling better. I'm sorry I brought it up."

Charlie smiled, "Don't be." He leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes. "You said Ali Abu-Hassan got sick, right? But Mohammed didn't? They both ate with us, so why didn't Mohammed get sick?"

Larry stood and approached Charlie's bed. "But, Charles, did he eat everything you ate?"

Charlie sighed and shook his head. "I don't remember, Larry. It was a huge meal, lots of courses. Lots of things I never heard of before. There were multiple conversations going on."

"At least there was no alcohol to cloud your thought processes," Larry said.

"Of course not. They're Muslims," Charlie said. "But I was tired, and stressed. That would affect my thought processes."

"Maybe I should get back to Colby," Don said, "See if he's found out anything else. And I should let him know about your thoughts too, Charlie." Don stood, pulled out his cell phone and headed for the door.

"Don," Alan said, "You might also want to let Charlie's friends know how he's doing."

"Oh, yeah, I guess they might be wondering." He grinned at Charlie. "Just kidding, Chuck. Every time I've talked to them, they've asked about you."

"Tell them I'm feeling a lot better, and thank them for their concern," Charlie said.

"I will, Buddy."

Don sat in the waiting area and dialed. When Colby answered, Don said, "Hey, Colby."

"Don! How's Charlie doing?"

"A lot better. They've tried an experimental treatment on him, and it looks like it's working."

"That's great, Don. So what's up? You just calling to make sure I'm not using your desk?"

"No. We were discussing how Charlie got the anthrax. He doesn't think it was Mohammed Abu-Hassan."

"Really? Why not?"

Don told Colby about Charlie's feelings about Mohammed, then said, "I know it's kind of sketchy, but I told Charlie I'd let you know. Have you heard anything more?"

"No. But I haven't really pursued it either. I thought you just wanted to know about the anthrax."

"I did. But then we've had a lot of time on our hands and we started theorizing."

"Oh, man, Don, you're hanging out with the math and science geeks way too much. Next thing you know, you're going to be wearing a pocket protector and using a slide rule."

"Colby, you've lost touch with what the well dressed geek wears these days. Pocket protectors are so last century."

"Yeah, but remember when we were investigating Saida Kafaji's murder? Professor Fleinhardt attempted to reenact the murder by using a slide rule as a knife."

"Okay, I'll grant the slide rule. But no pocket protector."

"That's fair. Listen, I'll find out what I can, and I'll pass on Charlie's concerns. It may be sketchy, but he's got an uncanny knack for being right. And tell him we can't wait for the Whiz Kid to come back."

Don laughed. "Okay, thanks Colby. I'll tell him."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

When Don returned to Charlie's room, he was surprised to see his brother was looking a little pale and a lot tired, but still awake. He smiled at Don and said, "Did Colby have anything new?"

"Nah. He assumed all we wanted was the anthrax information. Which, to be fair, was true until a few minutes ago. He's going to pass your concerns on to his contacts, and see if they have anything new."

"Good," Charlie said, shifting, trying to get comfortable.

"You okay?" Don said, frowning.

"Yeah," Charlie said with a wave of his hand. "I've just been in the same position way too long. And I need a shower and a shave."

"Yeah, you are getting a bit ripe," Don said, grinning.

"Gee, thanks," Charlie said, laughing. "So have you heard anything from anybody else yet? You said you'd spoken with Havercamp, and with Bob Tompkins."

"Yeah, just to try to find out what you were up to last week. Since you wouldn't tell your own brother."

"Don, you know I couldn't," Charlie said.

"I know, Buddy. But it's all good now. The treatment's working. You're doing a lot better." He paused, looking at Charlie closely. "You are doing better, right?"

"Of course I am," Charlie said, bracing himself with his hands and feet so he could shift his butt to a slightly different position on the bed. "You think the doctor will let me get up and walk around soon?"

"I hope he gives us advance warning so I can bring your jammies over. We wouldn't want you mooning the staff and patients."

Charlie gave Don a look that could have killed a lesser man. "So, you really haven't heard anything more about what's going on in Baghdad? I wonder if anybody else in Abu-Hassan's household came down with it. I really wonder where the anthrax came from. Was it from Saddam's stash, or is it something new?"

Don shook his head. "Sorry, but we were a little preoccupied here, Charlie." He glanced at Agent O'Connell. "Is there anything you can tell us, Mike?"

O'Connell looked up from his book and shook his head. "Sorry, Don. I don't know any more about this than you do. My only involvement has been keeping an eye on Charlie. Now that the cat's out of the bag, so to speak, I can ask my boss if there's anything we can pass on to you. I wouldn't hold out too much hope, though. The NSA is big on keeping their secrets secret."

"You can say that again," Alan said. "I am still amazed that keeping this secret was more important than Charlie's health. And not just him, but what about the other consultants? What about the man who died?"

"Dad," Charlie said softly. "It's okay."

"No, Charlie it is not okay. If I were you, I'd seriously reconsider associating with an agency that takes such a cavalier attitude toward..." 

"Dad," Charlie said, pushing himself upright and grabbing his father's arm. He winced and pressed a hand to his belly.

"Charlie," Alan said, "are you in pain?"

"A little," Charlie admitted.

"Why didn't you say something?"

Charlie shrugged. "It's nothing, really. I just moved too fast."

Alan quickly pressed his palm to Charlie's forehead. "You still feel cool. How long have you been feeling bad, Son?"

"Since, when was it? Sunday night? Monday morning?"

"You know what I mean, Charlie."

"Half an hour?"

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't want you worrying that I might be getting worse again, okay?"

Amita squeezed his hand. "Call the nurse, Charlie. Please?"

"No. I'll be okay," Charlie said.

"Charles," Larry said, "It won't go away just because you pretend it doesn't exist."

"I'm aware of that, Larry." He sighed. "All right," he said, pushing the nurse call button.

Dr. Foreman walked into the room before Charlie's finger left the button. Alan shook his head, amazed. "Well, that was fast."

"What?" Foreman asked. "I'm just here for the next blood draw."

"Ah, well, maybe you can answer our question," Alan said. "Charlie is in pain again, and he was afraid to tell anybody because he didn't want to face the possibility he might be getting worse again."

Foreman smiled and said to Charlie, "The blood work shows you're getting better. But we are weaning you from the morphine, so that's probably it."

"I hope so," Charlie said softly. "Is there a way we can be sure?"

"Sure. I'll check your vitals, then draw your blood and test it. If the anthrax is getting worse again, your temperature will be up, and your blood counts will be getting worse. Chase should be here with his results any time now, too. If they're better, we'll assume for now it's the lack of morphine. And I'll check with House and order something else for the pain, if you'd like."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Charlie said. "It's not bad unless I move too quickly. And I'd rather not feel like a zombie."

"You sure?" Don asked.

"Yeah, Don. I'm sure. If it gets too bad I'll ask for a painkiller." He waited as Foreman drew the blood and checked his temperature. "How's it look?"

"Temp's 100.1. Down since last time," Foreman said.

"Well, you and Dr. Cameron don't use the same thermometer, so it's possible..."

"Charles," Larry said, "on the one hand, you appear to be afraid to admit that you might be getting worse, and yet, when faced with evidence that you are getting better, you appear to reject that as well."

Charlie chuckled, "Sorry. You're right, Larry. Thanks, Dr. Foreman. I'll take that as a good sign."

Foreman nodded. "Okay, good. I'll write the order for a painkiller, and you can just ask the nurse if you change your mind."

After Dr. Foreman left, Charlie closed his eyes and sighed. "Well, that gave me a good scare," he murmured.

Don's phone rang, and he glance around guiltily before answering, "Eppes."

"Don. Colby. Turns out the Whiz Kid was right. It wasn't Mohammed. They're looking at the wife."

"The wife? What possible motive could she have?"

"I think they're looking more at the opportunity she had."

"Are the Abu-Hassans Sunni or Shia?" Don asked.

He could hear Colby rustling papers. Finally he said, "The whole family is Shia."

"So there's no reason for her to want the Baathists back in power. Did she know any of the consultants before they came to her hosue?"

"No," Colby said. "Not that I know of."

"And Saddam's regime was not kind to women. So what made them decide that Mohammed was innocent? And why didn't he get sick when everybody else did? Including his own father."

"He's in the army. He was vaccinated, and it looks like it worked."

"Okay, did they find out what the father was treated with?"

"Some new treatment," Colby said. "Bacterio... Give me a minute. I've got it written down somwhere."

"Bacteriophage?" Don said.

"Yeah, that's it. Bacteriophage. How'd you know?"

"That's what they're giving Charlie, and it seems to be working on him, too."

"That's good, Don. Hey, listen, Megan needs me..." 

"You and Megan? Larry's right here, you know."

"No," Colby said loud enough that everyone in the room could hear him. "Tell Professor Fleinhardt that Megan and I are just coworkers. We got something going down here, and I've got to go. I'll have to get back to you later."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

When Don finished his phone call, Charlie was sitting up, looking intently at him. "Well," Charlie said, "Now they think it was Jamila."

"Jamila?" Don asked.

"Mrs. Abu-Hassan. Why do they think it was her? She seemed like a nice lady."

"Charlie, so far you've thought the whole damn Abu-Hassan family was nice. Someone tried to kill you," Don said, his voice rising in frustration.

"Maybe it wasn't one of the family members. They do have servants. They buy their food in the market like everyone else. And, yes, they were nice people. They're supporters of the new government. They're glad the Americans came to their country and got rid of Saddam. Ali told us that his brother was tortured to death by Qusay Hussein. Jamila's sister was raped. They have no reason to want the old regime back in power, and they have no reason to attack Americans." Charlie leaned back and closed his eyes, sighing.

"Okay," Don said softly.

Amita leaned forward and said, "But, Don, are they bringing charges against her? Is there anything you can do to help?"

Don shook his head. "This is so far out of my jurisdiction it's not funny. I don't know if anyone is bringing charges. I have no idea if our government is going to do anything about it." He glanced at Agent O'Connell. "Mike, do you have any idea?"

"Sorry. No. Like I said, my only involvement..."

"Has been to keep an eye on Charlie," Don said. He turned to Charlie, "I think it's time to give your buddy Bob another call. You want to call him, or should I?"

"I will." Charlie held out his hand.

"You know you're not supposed to use this in here," Don said, handing him the phone.

"I won't tell on you if you don't tell on me," Charlie said as he took the phone.

"If you go through my recent calls list, you'll find..." Don stopped, amazed as Charlie dialed the number without a second thought.

Charlie noticed Don's expression, and grinned. "I tend to remember numbers." He waited, listening to the ringing on the other end.

"Tompkins."

"Bob, it's Charlie Eppes."

"Charlie! How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks. I have a question. Is any American agency investigating who gave us the anthrax? As far as you know, of course."

"Why?"

"Don's sources told me they suspect Jamila Abu-Hassan now. I don't think she did it. In fact, I don't think any of the Abu-Hassan family did it. I don't want to see them railroaded, and I want to know if any American agency is involved in the investigation."

"Well, you know I'm limited in what I can tell you..."

"Of course."

"But since you are personally involved, I can tell you that we are investigating it. I'll pass your concerns on to the investigator. May I have him contact you?"

"Yes, please do. Could I contact him?"

"I'd rather not, Charlie. I'm sure you understand."

Charlie sighed. "I understand. One more question, if you don't mind. Is Jamila facing criminal charges?"

"Possibly."

"Bob, she didn't do it."

"What's your evidence, Charlie?"

Charlie rubbed his eyes. "No evidence. I just don't believe..."

"Charlie, your heart is in the right place, but I can't proceed without evidence. You know that. Listen, I've got an incoming call I need to take. If you think of anything at all, please call me, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Bob." He hung up, and handed the phone back to Don.

"Well?" Alan said.

"The NSA is investigating it, and the man in charge of the investigation may call me. Or he may not. And I need evidence. He's not going to act on my beliefs. Not that I blame him."

Dr. Chase entered, carrying a printout. "Good news, Charlie. Your blood counts are improving. And Dr. Adukalil is very happy with the antibody levels. The bacteriophage are working."

He checked Charlie's temperature. "And your temperature is down to 99.3. Dr. Foreman said you were in some pain. How are you feeling now?"

"Still a little sore."

"Nausea?"

"A little, but not bad."

"Hungry?"

Charlie smiled. "Yeah, now that you mention it, I am."

"All right, then. Why don't we start you on clear liquids now, and if that goes well, go straight to a soft diet tonight?"

"Sounds great," Charlie said.

"I hope you're a big fan of Jello," Chase said as he turned to leave. "I think today's special is green."

"Green, huh? My favorite flavor."

"I'll have the nurse bring you lunch, then."

"Excuse, me, Dr. Chase," Alan said. "I haven't seen Dr. House recently. Is he still involved with the case?"

Chase grinned, "Only in a supervisory position. He loses interest in his cases once he solves the mystery. Charlie's mystery is solved, and House is on to the next challenge. But don't worry. Charlie is in good hands."

"Oh, I know that," Alan said. "I ... well, this is going to sound strange, but I kind of hoped he was off onto something else."

Chase laughed. "Oh, no, that's not strange at all. While most patients and families appreciate House's skills and his results, they're not terribly thrilled with his bedside manner."

"Now, that is the understatement of the year," Alan said, chuckling as Dr. Chase headed toward the door. "See you later, Doctor."

Don leaned forward and gave Charlie a playful punch on the arm. "Green Jello for lunch, eh, Buddy! Next you'll be graduating to slyders."

Amita gasped and glanced at Larry. "I don't think Charlie will be interested in White Castle any time soon," she said.

"Why not? You love White Castle," Don said, studying Charlie's face.

"Uh, right now they don't sound very appetizing," Charlie muttered.

Don looked from Amita to Larry. Finally, Amita said, "Charlie's last meal was about half a dozen slyders."

Don nodded. "You're looking positively green, Buddy. Let me guess. They didn't taste anywhere near as good the second time around."

"Don!" Alan scolded. "Stop picking on your brother."

"Sorry, Charlie," Don said, grinning. "So," he settled into his chair and leaned back, stretching, "What kind of evidence does Tompkins need?"

"Something more substantial than my feelings about the Abu-Hassan family."

"Well, duh," Don said. "You've already told us some interesting things about them. What else do you know?"

The nurse entered with a small bowl of green Jello and a cup of apple juice. "Hi, Charlie. You ready for lunch?"

Charlie nodded. "It looks great, thank you."

The nurse gave him a skeptical look as she put his lunch in front of him. "Okay, I've heard this stuff called a lot of things. 'Great' is a new one on me. Enjoy."

Charlie took a spoonful of Jello and savored it before answering Don. "I know that Ali and Jamila have two children: Mohammed and a twelve year old daughter named Areej. Ali is the Deputy Minister for trade, and Jamil is studying to be a lawyer. Mohammed wants to be a doctor, and is planning on studying in the US. They have three, no, two servants who work in the house and would have access to the kitchen. The servants have been with the family for years."

Don sighed. "Okay. I can see why you don't think it was them. Who was at dinner that night?"

"Ali, Mohammed, the four of us, and our guide and translator, Asif Kamil." Charlie paused to take another spoonful of Jello.

Amita said, "That's the first time you've mentioned the translator. What do you know about him?"

"He was supplied by the NSA. Other than that, I don't know anything about him."

"All right," Don said. "I'll pass it on to Colby." He stood and took his phone out. "And I'm going to get some lunch. That Jello is making me hungry."

Alan laughed. "Now that is scary."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Charlie finished the Jello and apple juice, and was feeling positively chipper when Don returned, carrying a cardboard holder with five cups of coffee. Don grinned at his younger brother and said, "Sorry, Buddy, no coffee for you. And I'll bet my lunch was better than yours."

Charlie put up his hand, "Stop. Don't tell me what you had. I will grant that your lunch was better. Can we just leave it at that?"

"Sure we can," Don said as he handed coffee to the room's other occupants. As he handed a cup to Agent O'Connell, he said, "I didn't know what you liked it in, so it's black."

"That's fine. Thanks, Don."

Don took his seat near Charlie's bed. "So do you want to hear about my conversation with Colby?"

"Of course we do," Alan said. "Get on with it."

"Seems the NSA isn't the only agency investigating this. The army has taken an interest as well, and they're not thrilled with the NSA's choice of translator. It seems your buddy Asif may not be what he claimed to be. I won't bore you with the details, but I did call Assistant Director Tompkins to fill him in. I have a feeling the NSA won't be pestering the Abu-Hassan family for long."

"That's great news!" Charlie said.

"Yeah, Chuck. It looks like your hunch paid off."

"I don't have hunches," Charlie glowered.

"Oh, that's right. Well, your informed guess, then. Or would you prefer 'theory?' Whatever it was, it was right on."

Dr. Cameron returned for the next blood draw. "Well, you folks are looking pretty cheerful. And, Charlie, you ate your Jello."

Smiling, he held up his bowl and did his best Oliver Twist imitation, "Please, may I have some more?"

"Yes, Charlie, you may. Assuming that the first serving is sitting okay."

"It is," Charlie said.

She took his temperature and checked his blood pressure. "Perfect!" After she finished drawing the blood, she said, "I'll tell the nurse you're still hungry. Just save room for supper, okay?"

"I will. Say, Doctor, do you know when I'll be able to get out of here?"

"Well, it's really up to Dr. Adukalil. He's monitoring your condition, but I know he's encouraged by the latest test results. Are you from around here?"

"No. I'm from Pasadena, but we're staying here, at the Peacock Inn until Sunday"

"Well, that might make a difference. I'll see if I can spring you tomorrow, as long as you stay around and come back here if you have any problems at all."

"That would be great. I'd like to attend the rest of the conference."

"What conference?"

"Larry, Amita and I are here for the applied mathematics conference. I was supposed to speak, but, well, I collapsed on stage. I was hoping I wouldn't have to miss the whole thing. There are some incredible speakers this year."

Don chuckled, "If you're into that kind of thing."

Dr. Cameron smiled at Don. "I take it you are not here for the applied mathematics conference."

"No way," Don laughed. "Dad and I came here when we heard Charlie was sick."

"Well, I think it's great that you were able to come out. I hope you get to see something of Princeton other than the hospital."

"Probably not. I should get back home, and back to work," Don said.

"What do you do?"

Charlie interrupted, "He's a G-Man."

"I'm an FBI agent," Don translated. "It's not as exciting as being a math professor, but it's what I do."

Cameron laughed. "I'd better get these tests started so we can get Charlie out of here in time for his math lectures, and get you back to work, Agent Eppes."

Don watched her leave, and Charlie watched Don. Finally he leaned toward Amita and stage-whispered, "Donnie thinks the doctor's hot."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with looking, Buddy."

"No, there's not," Charlie said softly, but not softly enough. Amita scowled at him. "Amita, I am just saying there's nothing wrong with Don looking." He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "I'd rather just look at you."

Don snickered. "You're either getting mushy in your old age or you're afraid Amita will punch your lights out."

Amita planted a kiss on Charlie's forehead. "Either way works for me," she murmured.

Charlie blushed and struggled to change the subject, "So, it looks like I'll be out of here tomorrow."

Alan grinned, "That's great, Charlie! But don't push yourself. You don't want to end up back in here."

"I won't. I plan to sit back and listen to the few lectures that are remaining. Nothing strenuous at all, Dad. You want to stay the rest of the week?"

Alan glanced at Don. "Your brother and I need to get back to work."

"Yeah," Don said, "My team has something going on, and they're not telling me about it. Which means it's something big."

"Don," Larry said, "that doesn't make much sense."

Don bit back a comment about Larry not making sense most of the time and said, "If I knew they had something big going on, I'd leave here and rush back. They want me to be here for my baby brother, so they're not telling me. Simple."

"Well," Larry said, "when you put it that way, it does make sense. I'm sorry for doubting you, Don. Alan, you can trust Charlie to Amita and me. We will make sure he doesn't push himself too hard, and if he shows the slightest indication of a relapse, we will rush him back here."

"Now we just have to see if we can book a flight back to LA tomorrow morning," Don said.

"Hand me my computer, Don," Charlie said, "we'll have you booked in no time."

"You trying to get rid of us, Chuck?" Don asked, grinning.

"No! Not at all. I was just... well,... you sounded like you were in a hurry. If you don't want..."

"Just teasing you, Buddy. You're such an easy mark. Here you go," Don said, handing Charlie the laptop.

After a few minutes, Don and Alan had settled on a noon flight out of Newark. Without telling them, Charlie used his own account to upgrade them to first class tickets. "Okay, all you have to do is show your ID, and you're good to go. You've got your seat assignments and everything." He took a deep breath and said, "Dad, Don, I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am that you dropped everything and came out here just to be with me."

"Son, don't worry about it. You know you'd do the same for either of us."

"You're right. Would you at least let me pay you back for the tickets?"

"No," Don said. "I will not let you pay for the tickets or for the rental car or for the parking garage at LAX or for my lunch. And don't ask again."

"Okay," Charlie said putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I had to try. So, what are you planning to do with your remaining time in Princeton?"

"Oh," Alan said, "I thought we'd stay here for a little while, treat Larry and Amita to dinner, then go back to the inn, get some sleep and then see you in the morning. How's that sound?"

Charlie blinked and stared for a moment before he could come up with an answer. "I guess it sounds okay. No, I'm sure it sounds like a great idea. The four of you have been through a lot. You need to get out for a while. But why don't you let me pay?"


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

The next morning, Alan, Don, Amita and Larry returned to find Charlie sitting up in bed, eating scrambled eggs and drinking tea. "Hi," he said, grinning. "Notice anything different?"

"Yeah," Don said, "your no longer have your own personal NSA agent. When'd that happen?"

"After you guys left for dinner, Agent Reid returned and told Agent O'Connell they were leaving. They said goodbye and that was it."

"Well, that's good," Alan said. "Even though I had nothing to hide, it felt weird having someone listening to everything we said. So, have the doctors been back to see you?"

"Oh, yeah, they took blood a few more times, then they let me sleep. I'm still hoping to get out of here today, but nobody's told me anything. They did bring me real food for breakfast." He grinned and took another bite of eggs. "Well, it's more real than anything I've eaten since I've been in here."

Amita held up a paper bag. "We brought you a change of clothes just in case they do kick you out of here."

"Yeah," Alan said, "Your suit was a mess. Ms. Lindsay recommended a cleaner, but it won't be ready until this afternoon. I gave Amita the claim ticket so you can pick it up."

Charlie grimaced at the thought of what his suit must look like. "I don't think I'll need it before then. I only wore it for my presentation. So, how was your dinner?"

"It was excellent, Charles," Larry said. "We ate at the restaurant at the Peacock Inn."

"And we put it on your tab, as you requested," Don said. "The lobster was a little pricey, but it was very good. What did you have for dinner?"

Charlie glared at Don. "Poached chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and milk. Larry would have loved it. But they did let me have chocolate pudding for dessert. And, knowing the cost of medical care these days, I'd be willing to bet that my meal was more expensive than yours."

"Good morning," Dr. Chase entered the room, carrying a file folder. "I assume you're anxious to get out of here, Charlie."

"I am. And I assume you have good news for me."

"Yes, I do. The bacteriophage are doing their work. Your temperature, blood pressure and blood counts are all in the normal range. Dr. Cameron says you'll be in the area until Sunday, right?"

"Right."

"Well, then, I'll get the nurse in here and we'll get you unhooked from the rest of the tubes, have you sign a ream of papers, and send you on your way." Chase left the file folder on Charlie's table and left to get a nurse.

"The rest of the tubes?" Alan asked Charlie.

"Yeah, they took out the catheter last night. I forgot to include that when I told you about my exciting evening. And the most exciting part is that I actually peed on my own this morning"

"That is thrilling," Don said wryly.

"Hey, it may not sound thrilling to you, Bro. But if it means I can get out of here, it's very thrilling to me."

Don checked his watch, "Dad, we'll need to leave in about an hour."

Alan looked from Don to Charlie, "If you want me to stay,..."

"Nah," Charlie said. "You and Don need to get back." He took his father's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you for coming. It really helped, having you here. Have you packed?"

"Yeah, yeah. We're all set. Our bags are even in the car already. We can stay with you until the last minute."

"Good." Charlie finished the last of his tea and pushed the table aside. "Hey, Don, I don't want to be a nag, but have you heard anything more about the investigation?"

Don shook his head. "Colby's been busy."

"Busy?" Charlie raised his eyebrows in feigned shock. "Too busy to investigate MY case? Don, have you totally lost control of your team?"

Don's comeback was interrupted when a nurse came to get Charlie ready to be released. She removed his tubes, handed him a prescription. "You need to take the antibiotics until they're gone. You should avoid strenuous activity for a few days until you get your strength back. And avoid spicy, acidic or greasy food. The lesions in your digestive tract are healing, but they may still cause you some discomfort. You'll probably be tired for a few days."

"Tired? I've been doing nothing but sleeping since I've been here," Charlie objected.

"Well, you'll find that you're going to want to do more sleeping after you leave. Remember, your body has had to dedicate a lot of its resources to fighting that infection. Even though you're young and healthy, it's going to take you some time to get over this. Just don't be surprised if you're weak, tired, achy. If you develop a fever, or have a significant amount of pain, get back in here immediately. Don't play the tough guy, Dr. Eppes."

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Charlie grinned.

"Good. Why don't you get dressed now? I'll have a wheelchair here for you in a few minutes. Do you have transportation back to where you're staying?"

"What? I can't walk?" Charlie asked as the nurse left the room. "I'm kidding. Don, did you and Dad drive over here this morning?"

"Yeah, we did. You want a ride back to the inn?"

"Actually, I was thinking of going to the conference..."

"No," Alan said firmly. "Not until you've taken a shower and washed your hair."

"All right. To the inn first and then we'll walk to the conference."

"I'd rather you drive. Why don't you see how you feel?"

"Okay, that's a good compromise, Dad." Amita handed Charlie the bag of clothes, and he opened it and pulled out sweats, an old tee shirt, underwear, socks, and his favorite sneakers. He grinned up at her, "Perfect, thank you!"

"Your dad picked them out. I think I'll wait in the hall while you get dressed."

Once Charlie was dressed and settled in a wheelchair, Don went to retrieve his car. The pink smocked volunteer took Charlie to the door, accompanied by Amita, Larry and Alan. Amita carried the blue and white "patient's belongings" plastic bag full of Charlie's dirty clothes.

When they arrived at the inn, Don looked at his watch. "Dad, it's time to get going," he said softly.

"I know," Alan said. "Charlie," he hugged his younger son, "you take care of yourself, now. Keep us posted, okay?"

"I will, Dad." Charlie reached his arm out to include Don in the hug. "I love you both, and thank you again for coming. Have a safe trip home."

"You too, Son. See you Sunday?"

"Yeah, we're sticking with our itinerary. I'll call you if anything changes."

Don and Alan climbed into the rental car and pulled away. Charlie waved until he could no longer see them, then turned toward the inn, wiping his eyes.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Ms. Lindsay looked up from the desk as Charlie, Larry and Amita entered. "Dr. Eppes! It's nice to see you. How are you feeling?"

Charlie smiled, "Better, thanks. And thank you for being so kind to my father and brother. Are Mr. O'Connell and Mr. Reid still here?"

"No, they checked out a few minutes ago. Why? Are they friends of yours?"

"Not exactly. More like acquaintances."

The three professors went to their rooms, and Charlie took the longest, most relaxing shower he had taken in a long time. Besides finally feeling clean for the first time in days, he found the hot water soothed all his aches and pains. When he came out, toweling his hair, he heard his cell phone beep. A voice mail. He wrapped the towel around his waist and listened to the message. It was Don, telling him to call back as soon as possible. Charlie sat on the bed and dialed.

"Eppes," Don answered.

"Don, I just got your message. What's up?"

"You're not going to believe this, but I just heard from Colby. The Abu-Hassan family is totally off the hook. In fact, Ali Abu-Hassan is now officially a victim."

"Really? A victim of whom?"

"The translator. He's Iranian. His job was to disrupt the new Iraqi government from within. He already poisoned two other Iraqi officials. I don't know how he got through the NSA's security checks. You guys were his first known American victims."

"I'm honored," Charlie said wryly.

"Yeah, you should be. You are officially collateral damage, Buddy."

"Any word on how the other collateral victims are doing?"

"They're giving them all the bacteriophage treatment. So you're not only officially collateral damage, you're also officially a guinea pig."

"Too bad it didn't get there soon enough for Mason."

"Yeah." There was a long, awkward silence, then Don said, "But at least your friends in Iraq are cleared. That's good news, right?"

"Yeah. That's great. Thanks for letting me know." Charlie glanced at the alarm clock. "You must be near the airport."

"Yep. Almost there."

"Thanks again for coming, Don. It was great having you and Dad here."

"You're welcome. And we'll see you Sunday, right? I'll plan on picking you guys up at the airport, okay? Dad has your itinerary, right?" 

"Yes, he does. I'll see you then. Tell Dad I said hi. And I really do love you both."

"I know. I love you too, Chuckie."

"Bye, Donald."

After Charlie had dried off and dressed, he rounded up Larry and Amita. He told them about Don's phone call.

"That's wonderful, Charlie," Amita said. "You and Don are solving crime on the other side of the world."

"Shall we go to the conference?" Charlie asked, picking up the prescription bottle from the night stand and putting it in his pocket. "It was convenient that there was a pharmacy on our way out. It saved us running all over town to get this filled."

"Charles, have you taken your antibiotic yet?"

"Not yet. It says to take it with food. I thought I'd take it during lunch." He grabbed his computer bag and checked its contents quickly. "I'm ready."

"Charles, perhaps we should drive over there."

"Nah. The walk will do me good. I'm actually feeling pretty well right now. And we can always call a taxi if I run out of steam."

Amita laughed. "Sounds fair to me. Larry, what do you think?"

"All right, but if Charles runs out of steam, I'm not carrying him."

Charlie had indeed begun to feel a little tired by the time they reached Fine Hall. A lecture was in progress, so they slipped quietly into three empty seats near the back of the auditorium. Charlie sighed and leaned back, eyes closed. Amita squeezed his arm and whispered. "You okay?"

Charlie nodded and murmured, "Just a little wiped out." After a few minutes, the lure of math perked him up again. He opened his eyes, sat up in his seat and started actively following the lecture, nodding at some points, and frowning at others. When the lecture finished, Charlie joined the crowd moving forward to engage the speaker in conversation.

"Eppsie!" Charlie turned to see Marshall Penfield approaching from the left at warp speed.

"Marshall! Good to see you again," he replied cautiously.

Penfield took Charlie by the shoulders and studied his face. "Are you all right, Charlie? You gave us quite a scare the other day. Are you feeling better?"

Charlie smiled and relaxed. "Yes, Marshall, I'm feeling a lot better today. Still a little bit under the weather, but I couldn't stay away from all this math."

"What was it? The flu?"

Charlie took a deep breath and released it slowly as he took Marshall aside. "It was anthrax," he said softly. "Something I ate when I was out of the country last week on a consulting gig."

"Oh, wow. Anybody else affected?"

Charlie nodded sadly. "Four others I know of. One dead, two in critical condition."

Penfield whistled softly. "Are you sure you're okay to do this? You were pretty seriously ill there."

"I'm fine, Marshall. Thanks."

"Listen, I don't want to pressure you in any way, so if you're not up to this, just tell me. Be honest. Dr. Langellan had to cancel for tomorrow, so there's a slot free. If you feel up to giving your presentation tomorrow..." Marshall let the question hang as he watched Charlie's face.

Charlie grinned. "I'd love to, Marshall. But you're going to have to be gentle with the sick guy, okay?"

"Eppsie, I'm always gentle with you! I'll make the announcement before the next speaker. That'll give your fan club a chance to make their plans."

"Fan club? Not hardly."

"Oh, I don't know, Charlie, I've been questioned about your condition by more than one of our female colleagues. They seemed quite concerned that they wouldn't have the opportunity to see you this week. Of course, none of them could hold a candle to the lovely Amita."

"Nobody could hold a candle to Amita. Did I mention that she and I are dating now?"

"Why, no, Eppsie, you didn't. Is she here? Perhaps I should have a talk with her."

Amita came up behind them and slipped her arm through Charlie's arm. "Have a talk with who?"

"Ah, with you. I hear you're dating this rascal now."

"Why, yes, I am," Amita gave Charlie a kiss on the cheek. "And very happily so. Why?"

"Oh, ah, no reason." Marshall blushed.

Charlie smiled at Amita. "I believe he was hoping to talk some sense into you."

"Who needs sense when I have you, Charlie?"

"I'm not sure how to take that..." Charlie said.

"I meant it in the nicest possible way. Let's go get some lunch," Amita said, taking a step toward the exit. "See you later, Marshall."


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

By the end of the day, Charlie was ready to let Amita call a taxi for their return trip to the inn. They sat on a bench outside of Fine Hall, waiting for the cab. Charlie leaned his head back against the bench and smiled sleepily. "What a great day," he said. "What did you think of Bernie Rumpole's presentation? I thought he showed some great insight."

"I thought he was rude and pretentious," Amita said. She laughed at Charlie's expression. "But brilliant. How are you feeling, Charlie?"

"Tired. But other than that I feel fine. I ate most of my lunch and dinner, and didn't feel too bad afterwards. I can't believe I'm going to have a chance to give my presentation after all this. It seems like it's been weeks and it's only been three days."

"You certainly are sounding chipper, Charles," Larry said as he sat on the bench next to Charlie. "I'm glad you're feeling better, and it's wonderful that you'll be able to do your presentation. Are you sure you feel up to it?"

"Yes, but I'm going to have to go through it tonight just to make sure. To be honest, I am a little nervous."

"Charlie, you don't have to be nervous. You'll do just fine." She paused as the taxi arrived. After they had settled in for the ride, she continued, "You know, Charlie, if you'd like, I can go through your talk with you tonight."

"I'd like that," he said, putting his arm around her and smiling.

"Charles," Larry's voice carried a note of questioning blended with warning.

"What? No! We're going to be doing math."

"One plus one, perhaps?" Larry said, grinning.

"Larry, you have a dirty mind," Charlie scolded. Suddenly, he remembered. "Damn. I have to pick up my suit at the dry cleaner. Amita, do you have the ticket?" When she handed it to him, Charlie tapped on the glass behind the driver's head. "Excuse me, we need to make a detour." He read the address to the driver, who pulled a u-turn to the annoyed honking of drivers all around him. Charlie sat back in his seat, looking rather pale. "That was a little scary."

The rest of the trip to the dry cleaner and then on to the inn passed uneventfully. Charlie lifted the plastic and examined his suit. "Perfect," he said as they pulled to the curb in front of the inn. Charlie paid and tipped the driver and they entered.

Ms. Lindsay smiled at them as they entered. "You're looking a lot better, Dr. Eppes. How are you feeling?"

"A little tired, but very well, thanks." They all went to Charlie's room, where he hung up his suit and made sure he had a clean shirt and tie for the next day's festivities.

Amita nodded her approval. "You'll be the most dashing mathematician there, Charlie. I've always liked that tie."

"You should. You gave it to me." Charlie booted his computer. His cell phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID screen. "Hey, Bro. How was the flight?" he answered with a grin.

"Charlie, what were you thinking? That upgrade was too expensive. We swapped back to coach. You'll see the credit..."

"Don! What the hell?! I wanted you and Dad to be comfortable..."

"I'm kidding, Chuck. Gotcha."

"What? Don!" Charlie sputtered.

"Calm down. You'll blow a gasket. I just wanted to thank you. That was very nice, and Dad and I really appreciate it."

Charlie took a deep breath and released it noisily. "You're welcome. It was the least I could do."

"So, anything new?"

"Yeah," Charlie grinned, "one of the other professors canceled, and I get to do my presentation after all."

"That's great. Too bad Dad and I couldn't be there to see it. Of course, we wouldn't have understood anything past 'good morning.'"

Charlie laughed. "You're a lot more teachable than you think, Bro. I think I could get you to understand convergence improvement in, say, half an hour."

"Okay, Buddy. Maybe we'll put that to the test when you get home. Hey, our baggage is coming. Gotta go. Thanks again, Charlie, and take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will, Don. See you Sunday." After he closed his phone he noticed Larry and Amita staring at him. "When I booked their flight I upgraded them to first class and didn't tell them. Don started out by telling me they downgraded back to coach."

"They didn't!" Amita said. "Out of spite?"

"He was pulling my chain. They used the first class seats, and he just wanted to tell me how much they appreciated it."

Larry was shaking his head, "Charles, I can understand why Alan has gray hair. Dealing with the two of you..."

"We're not that bad. Now," Charlie tapped a few keys on his computer and deftly changed the subject, "Okay, here's where I wanted to start with my presentation."

The next morning, Charlie was awake, showered, dressed and tapping on Larry's door before Larry even woke up. "Charles!" Larry said as he opened the door, "What are you doing up so early?"

"Sorry. I was just too excited to sleep."

"I can see that. Well, come in, have a seat and let me get ready."

Charlie perched on the corner of Larry's desk in an effort to stay out of the way. He drummed a rhythm on the desk as Larry gathered his things and headed to the bathroom. Once Larry was in the shower, Charlie began pacing, muttering his presentation to himself. There was a tapping on the door, and he went to open it.

Amita stood in the hallway, surprised. "Charlie! What are you doing here? I just checked your room to make sure you were up."

"I'm up, and I can't sit still. Too excited. Do I look okay?"

Amita smiled. "You look great, Charlie. Perfect."

Charlie blinked and stepped back to let Amita into the room. "Uh, thanks. You look very nice. But you always look nice. I mean..."

"Shh" Amita put her finger to Charlie's lips. "No caffeine for you this morning." She looked around. "Now, where's Larry?"

"In the shower. I should warn him you're here."

"Maybe I'll just go back to my room. Come get me when he's decent."

When Amita left, Charlie went back to pacing until Larry came out of the bathroom. "Charles! Please perch yourself someplace. You're making me dizzy. Did I hear Amita's voice a few minutes ago?'

"Yes, you did. She's ready to go to breakfast any time you are. She also told me I couldn't have any caffeine."

"She's a very smart woman, Charles. You must pay attention to what she says. You are a hyperkinetic dervish this morning. You don't want to burn yourself out before we get to the conference."

Charlie grinned and attempted to stay still until Larry was ready. He failed miserably.

"Charles, stop that infernal tapping now. I am ready. Let's go get Amita."

After breakfast, they walked to Fine Hall. "Isn't it a beautiful day?" Charlie asked as they stepped out into the sunlight. You know, back home we take weather like this for granted. But here, you develop an appreciation for warm, sunny days."

Amita gave Charlie's hand a squeeze. "I get the impression you really enjoyed yourself here."

"That's the funny thing. I didn't really. While I was an undergraduate, I was too caught up in all that teenage angst crap. I was only 13. Everybody else was older. I lived with my mom," he rolled his eyes. "How many college freshmen are accompanied by their mothers? It wasn't until later that I started to appreciate what a great place this really is. I wish I'd taken advantage of all it has to offer. But that's water over the bridge. Uh, under the bridge. Over the dam. Whatever. You know, if you two would like, I thought of something fun we could do tomorrow."

Amita glanced at Charlie, suppressing a grin, "A trip to White Castle?"

Charlie grimaced. "No. How about Menlo Park?"

Larry brightened, "The home of Thomas Alva Edison. Charles, that would be wonderful."

Charlie shrugged. "I had to think of something that two mathematicians and a physicist would enjoy. I thought of going into New York City, but this seemed like a more relaxing way to spend our last day here. Or we can just hang out here if you'd rather."

"No," Amita said, "the museum sounds like fun. Is it far from here?"

"About forty five minutes each way."

"That's almost all the way to Newark," Amita said.

"Yeah, but they're closed Sunday, so we couldn't stop on the way to the airport. I already checked. Like I said, it's up to you."

They both turned to look at Larry. "Well, I for one would love to go. And are you forgetting that we live in Los Angeles, which pretty much means we live in our cars anyway? Forty five minutes each way, relatively speaking is nothing."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30:

Charlie had finally slowed down a bit when they arrived at Fine Hall. Amita gave him a concerned glance. "You okay, Charlie?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a little out of steam from the walk. Remember, I am recuperating from a weapon of mass destruction."

Amita put her arm around Charlie's waist and gave him a squeeze. "And we're very glad you are. Recovering, that is. Are you ready to face your public?"

Charlie smiled as they walked through the front door. "Yes, I am. I'm even looking forward to seeing Marshall Penfield again."

Amita gave Charlie a mock look of shock, and pressed her palm to his forehead. "Hmm. No fever."

The lobby was full of mathematicians milling about and discussing all manner of esoteric things. Charlie returned a few greetings as he made his way to the auditorium. "Charlie," Amita whispered. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. Just a little tired, and nervous as all get out."

"Nervous?" Larry was incredulous. "You know your subject as well as you know your own back yard. Probably better. Why should you be nervous?"

"No reason, really. In fact it's kind of silly. It's just that the last time I gave this talk – or started to give this talk – well, it didn't go all that well. So I'm a little nervous. Let's go inside and sit."

Charlie led the way to the front row, on the opposite side from where they'd been sitting on Monday. He sat and turned his laptop on. While he waited for it to boot up he fidgeted nervously. As he reached up to straighten his tie once again, Amita took his hand, pulled it away from his tie and squeezed it. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Stop. You look great." He turned and found that his face was disconcertingly close to hers. He blushed and looked down at their hands. Amita pushed a curl out of his eyes. "You look great and you'll do just fine."

He took her hand in his, brought it to his lips and kissed her fingertips. "Thank you," he murmured.

Larry nudged him. "Charles, pay attention. You're about to be introduced."

Charlie released Amita's hands, turning his attention to the podium. Marshall Penfield approached the podium, smiling at Charlie. "Good morning," he said. "It's a great pleasure to introduce a man who has been a colleague, competitor, and, dare I say, friend. I know we've had our difficulties, but when he was taken ill on Monday, I found myself reevaluating our relationship. This is not to say that we're going to be best buddies from here on, but I promise not to laugh out loud or heckle our next speaker. Please welcome Dr. Charles Eppes." He held out his hand toward Charlie, "Eppsie?"

Charlie stood, grinning as the audience burst into applause. When he reached the podium and turned to face the audience, he was stunned to see they were on their feet. He laughed and said, "Sit! Sit! I haven't even started yet." They sat, but kept applauding. "Shhh.. Please, hush. You're embarrassing me," he said, his face bright red. When the audience finally quieted down, Charlie said, "Thank you all. I want to thank our hosts for allowing me to try again." He looked at Marshall, "and this time I promise not to make a mistake in the Taylor series."

He put his computer on the podium and began, "Convergence improvement actually refers to acceleration, whereby you reach reach a degree of accuracy within a series with fewer terms. Any number of series can be applied to this method. For example, take a Taylor series. You expand the Taylor series about infinity and interchange the summation. One of the limitations of this method is that the sum must be known in this application." Charlie wrote the illustration of the Taylor series in the convergence on the whiteboard. "Now, the Taylor series can be further accelerated by the application of the Euler transform. This is a technique I use when attempting to put together information on, say, a serial killer. I don't know who the killer is, but I know who the victims are..."

Watching Charlie writing and talking at the same time, Amita turned to Larry and smiled. "He's doing great, isn't he?" she whispered.

"Yes, he is. It's wonderful to see him back at it."

By the time he finished his talk, Charlie was looking a little worn, but he was clearly in his element. After taking a few questions, he said, "I'm afraid I'm still not a hundred percent, so I'm going to have to cut this short. Thank you." He closed his computer and left the stage to a loud round of applause.

He slid into his seat between Larry and Amita and sighed. "I think that went pretty well," he said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

"Charlie, are you okay?" Amita touched his cheek. "You don't feel warm."

"I'm fine. Just tired. I was too excited to sleep last night, and I think I'm paying the price now."

They sat and listened to the rest of the morning talks and then followed the group to lunch. They had settled into their seats when Marshall Penfield joined them. "Eppsie, you did an excellent job this morning."

"But?" Charlie asked with a grin. "There is a but, isn't there?"

"Nope. No but. It was an excellent presentation. I enjoyed the way you brought in your work for the FBI. You know, when I visited Cal Sci a couple of years back, I was surprised to see you had given up on your own research to do the FBI work..."

"I haven't given up..."

"I know that now. Listen, Charlie, when you got me involved in that home invasion case, I finally saw what you get out of it. It is incredibly satisfying. I mean what we do with all of our theory is good, but there's nothing like making a real difference..."

"I'm afraid I disagree, " Larry said as Charlie rolled his eyes. "We could be unlocking the secrets of the universe. And if all of our young brilliant minds forsake the theoretical in the interest of pursuing forensics, I despair..."

"Larry," Charlie said, "we are not forsaking the theoretical. Or have you forgotten my cognitive emergence work?"

"No, Charles. I haven't forgotten. I just fear that you will find the lure of the here and now to outweigh the quieter call of the more esoteric pursuits."

"Larry, I would never..."

"But you have, and you will continue to do so. I only hope I can act as your Jiminy Cricket."

"My what?"

"Your conscience, Charles. Jiminy Cricket sat on Pinocchio's shoulder and warned him when he was getting in trouble."

"So, let me get this right, Larry. You have set your life's mission based on a sixty year old cartoon?"

"Sixty six," Larry said.

"Well," Amita said, "it is a classic."

Marshall laughed, "Well, I can see this conversation is going where no man has gone before. I'd better mingle with the other guests." He stood and grinned at Charlie, "I'm glad you're feeling better, and I did thoroughly enjoy your presentation. No buts. See you all later."


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

After they finished lunch and were walking back to the auditorium, a man approached them. "Larry? Larry Fleinhardt?" He said.

"Yes?" Larry said, looking confused. Then realization dawned on his face and he grinned, "Scott Warner? Oh my goodness! How are you?"

"Absolutely wonderful. What are you working on these days?"

"Oh, a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Scott, I must first introduce you to my friends, Dr. Charles Edward Eppes and Dr. Amita Ramanujan. Charlie, Amita, meet one of my oldest, dearest friends, Scott Warner."

Scott reached out to shake hands, first with Amita and then with Charlie. "It is an honor to meet you. Dr. Eppes.."

"Charlie."

"Charlie, your presentation this morning was absolutely brilliant. Of course, Larry has been bragging about you for decades now."

Charlie grinned, "Well, thank you." He turned to Larry, "Bragging about me, Larry?"

"Well, Charles, you are my prize pupil. If you two would excuse me, Scott and I have a great deal of catching up to do!"

After Larry and Scott left, Amita said, "That was odd."

Charlie nodded. "They barely recognized each other and yet they are, to quote Larry, 'oldest, dearest friends.'" He shrugged and put his arm around Amita's waist. "It looks like I have you to myself for the afternoon."

She gave him a squeeze and said, "Aww, that's too bad. I don't know what we'll do without Larry."

Charlie swept his hand toward the auditorium, "There's always math."

"Larry did order the DVDs for you."

"That is true. Are you suggesting playing hooky, Professor?" Charlie raised his eyebrows and grinned.

"How about a brief sabbatical? Say a couple of hours? I could use some fresh air."

Charlie laughed and turned, steering Amita away from the auditorium doors. Just before they escaped, he heard Larry's voice behind them, "Charles! Amita!"

Charlie pasted an innocent smile on his face and turned, "Yes, Lawrence?"

"I just wanted to make my apologies. Scott has invited me to join his discussion group this afternoon. We'll probably go into the evening, if you don't mind."

"I'm devastated," Charlie said, grinning.

"I could tell Scott..." 

"I'm kidding, Larry. Go, have fun with your buddy. Amita and I were just going for a walk. We need some fresh air."

"Oh," Larry said, seeming to notice for the first time that Charlie had his arm around Amita. "Well, enjoy your walk, you two. And don't wait up for me."

"We won't," Charlie said softly as they made their escape.

Once they were outside, he said, "So where did you want to go?"

"I don't care. Back to the sundial? I know how thrilled you were to show it to us. I thought you'd like to see it again."

"That's very thoughtful of you," Charlie said softly as they walked along Washington Road toward McCosh Hall and the sundial. "But then again, you were always a very thoughtful person. And considerate. And kind."

Amita laughed, "You make me sound like a Girl Scout. Next you'll be saying I'm clean in thought, word and deed."

Charlie gave her a squeeze, "I hope not."

They laughed as they crossed Washington and continued along the sidewalk. "There it is!" Amita pointed.

"I didn't realize you were a fan of sundials," Charlie said.

"I'm not. I'm a fan of the way your face lit up when you brought us here on Monday."

They arrived at the base of the sundial, and Charlie stopped and turned Amita to face him.

"What?" she murmured.

"This," he said, kissing her gently.

Amita put her arms around Charlie's neck and returned his kiss enthusiastically. She pulled back and gazed into his eyes. "I knew I'd like to see the expression on your face."

He pulled her close again. "I thought you'd like this, too," he kissed her again.

"Too bad Larry's not here," she said, somewhat breathlessly.

"What? Why?"

"We could show him how libidinous the math department can be."

They never did go back to Fine Hall. They strolled around the campus, Charlie acting as tour guide, occasionally stepping out of character to nuzzle Amita's neck or give her a tender kiss. As they walked along the northern end of the campus, Charlie said, "Are you hungry?"

"A little."

"There's an amazing restaurant up here. It's probably early enough we can get in without a reservation if you want to give it a shot. And, no, it's not a White Castle. Just wanted to beat you to the punch," he said, grinning.

"It sounds wonderful."

They turned onto Witherspoon Street and walked to a simple building with a striped canopy over the door. "Welcome to Lahiere's, a Princeton institution since 1919," Charlie the tour guide said. Charlie the romantic took Amita's arm and opened the door for her. They approached the hostess. Charlie said, "Good evening. We don't have reservations, but I was hoping..."

The hostess smiled. "Two?"

"Yes."

"You're in luck, Sir. We do have a table for two available."

"Wonderful, thank you," Charlie said.

After they were seated, Amita opened her menu and gasped. "Charlie," she whispered, "This is too expen..."

He put his fingers to her lips. "Shhh. Choose anything you want, and do not look at the prices. Pretend you don't understand numbers."

Amita quirked an eyebrow at him. "That won't be easy."

"I know. But you can do it."

"All right. What do you recommend?"

"I don't know. I've never been here before."

Charlie insisted on ordering appetizers. He had the crab cocktail with guacamole and grape tomato salsa, and Amita settled on a Caesar salad. Charlie ordered the pan roasted filet of beef, and Amita chose the seared scallops. They accepted the waiter's wine suggestions and settled in for an evening of excellent food and conversation.

It was a short walk back to the Peacock Inn but they walked slowly, working off the fuzzy headedness that came from a long evening of good food and wine. When they reached Charlie's room, he led her to the couch and knelt to start a fire in the fireplace. When he finished, he stood at looked at Amita. She patted the space beside her on the couch.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32:

Charlie awoke to an insistent knocking on his door. He groaned, "Yeah?"

"Charlie!" Amita called as she knocked again. "Come on, get up sleepyhead. It's after ten o'clock."

"Wha?" Charlie sat up, rubbing his face. "Ten o'clock. Oh no, Larry must be having fits. We were supposed to leave for Menlo Park..."

"Larry's off with his new friends, Charlie. We're on our own today." He got out of bed and stumbled to the door. Amita stood, smiling at him. "And I don't especially care if I see Menlo Park or not."

"Give me a few minutes to get decent, and I'll treat you to breakfast."

Amita ruffled his tousled hair and kissed his cheek. "I think it'll take longer than a few minutes, bedhead. Come get me when you're ready."

Half an hour later, Charlie knocked on Amita's door.

She opened the door and looked him over. "Now that's better," she said, giving him a kiss.

"Mmm. Yes, it is," he murmured.

"I'm starving."

"Me too," he said, kissing her again.

"For breakfast," she said breathlessly.

"That too." He took her hand and reluctantly led the way to the dining room.

Amita ordered an omelet, and Charlie ordered French toast. As they drank their coffee, Charlie said, "So what do you want to do today?"

"I thought you could show me the rest of the sights right here in Princeton."

He leaned close and murmured. "I'll show you some sights, all right."

"We could start with where you and your mom lived while you were here as an undergrad."

"Oh, that kind of sight," Charlie said with a grin.

"Yes, that kind of sight. I had a lot of fun yesterday afternoon. This is such a pretty campus."

"It is. I think we could find enough to keep us occupied. Of course, if you find campus too peaceful, we can take a train to New York City."

"After the week we've had, I think peaceful is just what the doctor ordered," Amita said, smiling.

Charlie reached across the table and took her hand. "Yes, Doctor. I suggest we start with the historical society."

Amita gave Charlie and incredulous look. "Why?"

"I think you'll enjoy seeing the Einstein memorabilia they have there. You do know he spent the last years of his life here."

"It had completely slipped my mind. That sounds like an excellent idea."

The waitress arrived with their food, and refreshed their coffee. After breakfast, they walked hand in hand along Nassau Street to the Historical Society of Princeton. They enjoyed the display of Einstein's furniture, read some of his letters, and laughed at some of the humorous photographs of Princeton's own absent minded professor. "You know," Charlie said, "there is a story that the Dean's office received a phone call one day. The caller asked for directions to Einstein's house. Well, the man who took the call was understandably reluctant to give out that information. They didn't want tourists harassing Einstein. Finally, the caller said, 'This is Albert Einstein. I got lost walking home from campus.'"

Amita laughed. "And people think you're absent minded."

"Now, be fair," Charlie said, grinning, "I am not really absent minded. I just get involved in what I'm doing. Now, Larry, on the other hand..."

"Okay, I'll grant you that. I wonder if there's something about brilliant physicists..."

On the way out of the museum, Charlie bought a couple of self-guided tour pamphlets. "In case we can't find anything interesting on our own."

But they didn't have any trouble finding interesting sights. Charlie showed Amita where he had lived with his mother. They had lunch at the Yankee Doodle Tap Room in the Nassau Inn. Amita admired the thirteen foot long mural Norman Rockwell had painted for the Inn in 1939. When they entered the dining room, Charlie showed her the inscription above the hearth, "Rest, Traveller, Rest and Banish Thoughts of Care; Drink to Thy Friends and Recommend Them Here." When they received their beers, they raised them in a toast to their absent friends. Then Charlie showed her gallery of senior photos of famous alumni. It only took Amita a few seconds to find Charlie's photo. "Hey, Charlie! You're in the hall of fame! Right alongside Brooke Shilelds and Donald Rumsfeld."

Amita had grilled salmon and Charlie had a Reuben. When the waiter asked if they wanted dessert, they both vehemently declined. However, after several hours of walking and talking, they found themselves at Thomas Sweet, and couldn't resist the siren call of Princeton's best ice cream. By the time they returned to the Peacock Inn, they were ready to sit and put their feet up.

They were sitting on the couch in Charlie's room, Amita nestled against Charlie's chest, when Larry found them. He knocked on the door, and without waiting for a reply, burst into the room. "Charles, Amita, I am so sorry I left you in the lurch... Oh," he stopped, finally noticing them. "Oh, it appears you found something to occupy your time."

Charlie laughed, "Yes, Lawrence, we were able to entertain ourselves without you."

Amita sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. "Charlie gave me the grand tour of all the important sights in Princeton."

"We saw Einstein's furniture," Charlie said.

"And Charlie's senior photograph on the Yankee Doodle Tap Room wall of fame. What did you do, Larry?"

"Oh, just several hours of adult beverages and stimulating intellectual conversation."

"Have you eaten?" Charlie asked.

"Yes. Of course. But it is coming up on dinner time, and I thought to treat the two of you on our last evening in Princeton. I took the liberty of making reservations at Lahiere's." Larry looked perplexed as Charlie and Amita burst into laughter.

"I'm sorry," Charlie said, "Lahiere's is great. Amita and I ate there last night."

"Oh, Charles, we can eat someplace else..."

"No, no. Lahiere's is a wonderful choice. I guess great minds really do think alike."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33 -- the final chapter!

At six the next morning, they loaded their belongings into the rental car and drove to Newark Airport. As they passed the White Castle, Charlie said, "We are not stopping. Don't even think about it."

"Aw, darn," Amita said, "I was looking forward to slyders for breakfast."

"You're an evil woman," Charlie chuckled. He sighed melodramatically. "One day I'll be able to enjoy White Castle again, but it's still too soon."

"I don't know, Charles," Larry said from the back seat. "I can't imagine that seven in the morning would ever be a good time to eat White Castles."

As they sat in the terminal waiting to board their flight, Charlie checked his watch. "I guess it's still too early to call Don and remind him to pick us up."

Amita laughed. "Yeah, Charlie, I think if you called him at five in the morning, he would probably make us walk home."

"Well, we'll just have to hope somebody remembers," Charlie said nervously.

Someone did remember. Several someones. When Charlie, Amita and Larry walked down the concourse in LAX toward the baggage claim, they heard a series of loud cheers. Charlie looked around and said, "There must have been some celebrity on our flight."

"I don't think so. Look," Amita said, pointing to the rowdy group. "There's Don, your dad, Megan, Colby, and David."

"Well, Charles," Larry said, "it looks as if we won't have to walk home." He broke into a run and threw his arms around Megan.

Amita slipped her arm around Charlie's waist and said, "Aww. What a sweet couple."

Charlie gave Amita a squeeze. "We are, aren't we."

Alan rushed to meet them. "Charlie! How are you feeling, Son?"

"Fine, Dad. Wonderful, in fact," Charlie said, releasing his hold on Amita and embracing him father. "Thanks for coming to meet us."

"You're sure you're okay?" Alan pressed his palm to Charlie's forehead.

"Dad," Charlie said, playfully swatting the hand away, "I'm fine. Really."

David and Colby greeted the travelers enthusiastically. Colby gave Charlie a hug. "Hey, Whiz Kid, welcome home."

"Colby, thanks. And thanks for everything you guys did. You and Megan," Charlie said, nodding toward Megan, who was still engaged in welcoming Larry home, "Don told me about the work you did to figure out the whole anthrax thing."

"Hey, no problem," David said. "We needed you back here. You should see the stack of cases we've saved up for you."

"Amita," Alan said as they continued on the way to baggage claim, "how was the rest of the conference? And did you enjoy Princeton?"

"The conference was great. There was a cancellation, so Charlie got to give his presentation after all. And I loved Princeton," she wrapped her arm around Charlie's waist again, "I had a wonderful tour guide. Maybe I'll see if they have any openings..."

"What? No!" Charlie said, pulling away and scowling at Amita.

"I'm kidding, silly. Now that I'm on the tenure track here, I'd be an idiot to leave."

"And unlike some people," Alan said with pointed looks at his two sons, "you are not an idiot."

"Aw, now, Dad, that's unfair," Charlie protested, "I mean, Amita, you're no idiot, but Dad, neither are Don and I."

"Well," Alan said, "generally speaking, you're not idiots, but you do have your moments."

Don chuckled. "Come on, Dad. Chuck's had a bad week. Give him a break."

"Oh, all right," Alan said. "Does that mean I shouldn't tell him about the leak in the attic?"

The End

Author's note: Thank you all for your kind reviews.


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